


Rosalyn's Story

by ahlewis32



Category: Dragon Age
Genre: F/M, Humor, Non-Canon Relationship, Sex, Sexual Humor, Violence, non-canon plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-26
Updated: 2012-09-26
Packaged: 2017-11-15 02:36:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 174,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/522217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ahlewis32/pseuds/ahlewis32
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>City elf Rosalyn Tabris finds her destiny and the love of her life with the Grey Wardens. Non-canon plot with a lot of fun mixed in. A gift for my friends at Dragon Age Nexus.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part One

Rosalyn’s Story

Prologue: The Denerim Alienage

Rosalyn stood still, placid but defiant; her head lowered as she listened to the others tell the story. When they had finished the telling, she faced Valendrian, lifting her chin as she had when she was a child and had stolen a pie from Alarith’s store only to be caught by him as she sat on the steps of her house eating it. “Vaughan’s dead. I killed him,” she said bluntly. It was a simple phrase she spoke, as simple as admitting she had taken the pie all those years ago. The consequences were much higher now. There was no spanking or slap on the hand; this time she was headed to the gallows.  
The Grey Warden, Duncan, grew worried; it had gone well past what had been planned. “The garrison will be on their way.” He looked at Valendrian, “Time is short.”  
Rosalyn knew what she had to do. Turning to run to her house she said, “I’ll go, let me get my things.”  
She stopped as a young boy approached the group yelling, “The guards are here!”  
“Don’t panic!” scolded Valendrian, “We mustn’t seem as we are hiding anything.”  
A force of eight guards entered the Alienage gates, fanning out to circle the small group standing near the gate. The captain stepped forward to speak, “Administrator Valendrian!”  
Valendrian politely stepped up to greet him, “Here, Captain. I will assume you are here about the unfortunate events at the Arl’s estate.”  
“The Arl’s son lies dead in a river of blood that runs through the entire palace! I need names!” the captain announced, his hand on his sword.  
Rosalyn knew she had to do something; she couldn’t let innocents be hurt for what she had done. She would take the blame so her friends would have their lives. “It was me. I killed Vaughan and his men,” she admitted proudly and boldly, stepping forward.  
The captain was not impressed, laughing at the prospect of a single woman causing all his troubles, “You expect me to believe one woman did all of that?”  
“We are not all so helpless, Captain,” explained Valendrian angrily.  
The captain faced her sternly but still skeptical, finally nodding his agreement, “This elf will wait in the dungeons until the Arl returns. The rest of you, get back to your houses!” Turning to Rosalyn, he commanded his guards, “Shackle her.” Two men moved in and seized her arms, pinning them behind her back. Rosalyn grunted with the pain they caused but would not give them satisfaction of crying out.  
Duncan had hung back during this exchange, gauging whether or not he would be able to help. With the captain’s announcement, he saw his opening and sprang, “Captain…a word, if you please.”  
“What is it Grey Warden?”  
“I hereby invoke the rite of conscription. I remove this woman into my custody.”  
Rosalyn turned to the human, unsure if she heard him correctly. “You want to…what?”  
“You cannot have her! She is to be tried and executed!” argued the guard captain.  
Duncan shook his head and stepped between Rosalyn and the captain, “It is the law.”  
The guard captain’s face turned bright red with anger as he realized he had lost his prize, “Very well, Grey Warden, I cannot challenge you, but get this elf out of the city. Today!”  
Duncan nodded his head, “Agreed.”  
“Let’s get ready for trouble. Move on!” The captain took his men and marched out the way they came, without their prisoner. Duncan looked down at Rosalyn as he loosened the shackles that held her, “You’re coming with me, child. Say your goodbyes. We must leave immediately.”  
Rosalyn pleaded with Duncan, “NO! Let me stay here with my family!”  
Duncan grabbed her arm, holding her in a deathlike grip, “I need a Grey Warden and I found one. That conscripting saved your life is only a convenient circumstance.” When Rosalyn stood her ground and prepared to fight him, he released her arm and put his hands lightly on her shoulders, speaking with a kinder, softer tone, “You did what you had to do to save your family and yourself. We need you. Say your goodbyes and gather your things, my dear. Your life here is over.”  
Rosalyn slowly turned and walked back to her house, debating on whether to do as Duncan commanded or to run. There was a passage through the wall that the smugglers used to move goods in and out of the area. She could disappear through it and no one would be able to find her. Yet, somehow she knew he would never let her go; Duncan had way, she could tell. He would find her no matter where she went.  
Entering the house, she found Shianni dressed in a clean gown and sitting on her bed. There was no more shaking but the half empty glass of wine in her hand could also take credit for that. When she saw Rosalyn, she rose, setting down the glass and taking Rosalyn’s hand. “You took all the responsibility for what happened.”  
“I won’t let you or Soris suffer for what I did. Are you going to be okay?” Rosalyn asked, concerned.  
Shianni turned and faced the wall, looking into the mirror hanging there, “I’m…all right. No one but us knows what happened.” She paused, rubbing her hands over her arms, picking at her skin, remembering what happened, “I just don’t want them treating me like some fragile doll.” She bent down to pick up the washrag she had obviously discarded before, wet it from the basin and began to scrub vigorously at her arms and face. Rosalyn reached over and took the rag from her hand and dropped it in the basin then put her arms around her cousin from behind, holding Shianni steady as she willed her strength into her.  
Shianni sighed as she gathered that strength. “I love you, Roz,” she said softly. “Make us proud.”  
Rosalyn looked at Shianni, broken and bruised, but still fighting, “I love you too, Shianni.” She hugged her tightly, afraid to let go. “Maker watch over you,” she whispered in her ear. Shianni nodded, “You too.”  
Soris was nowhere to be found so she left him a short note, saying goodbye and giving him her love. She gave the note to his fiancé, Valora, who promised to give it to him. She kissed Rosalyn goodbye, promising to take good care of him, her father and Shianni. “I’m glad Soris has you. You’re just what he needs,” she told Valora, who bowed her head as her tears fell.  
Rosalyn changed her dress, putting her blood-soaked wedding dress back into the chest for safe keeping. Reaching into her boot for the small dagger she carried there, she sliced open a cut on the palm of her left hand. Making a fist, she squeezed it, watching the blood drip out onto the front of the wedding dress as it lay in the chest, mixing with the blood of Nelaros, Nola, and the others. “I will do this for you,” she vowed, “I will not forget!” She kissed the ring on her left hand to seal that bargain then stood up, washed her hands and face, dressed her hand and combed her hair.  
Her last goodbye was for her father. She found him outside of the house, waiting for her. Rosalyn had never noticed the lines of worry and care that lined his face as they did now. He had always seemed so young to her. He had aged many years that morning and she knew it was her fault.  
Cyrion heard her shut the door and met her, taking her hands in his, “You stood for what was right. No father could be more proud, but I fear the road you are taking will not always be what you want it to be.” Her father’s arms enveloped her as they had so many times before, strong and loving. His words to her were the same ones he’d told her so many times before, “Take care, my girl. Be safe. And wise. And…well, you know. We’ll all miss you.”  
Rosalyn nodded, tears threatening to take over. “Father, I am sorry for what happened to Nelaros. I…I really think I would have been happy with him.” The tears took over and she threw herself into his arms and he cradled her as he had so many times before. Cyrion stroked her hair and murmured the nonsense he always had, not letting her see how his heart was breaking.  
Slowly she pulled away from him and he planted a kiss on her forehead in goodbye. “I love you, my daughter,” he said quietly, “May the Maker and the gods be with you.” She turned and walked back to the gate, wiping her eyes on her sleeve to keep from looking weak to her new commander. Just before she was out of sight, she turned around and waved to her father as he stood in front of the housed, alone.  
Passing the Vhenadahl, she stopped and placed her hands on the tree, closing her eyes as she had been taught. She could feel the power of the tree flow into her, binding her to her home, giving her strength to do what she needed to do. Her left hand tingled and there was a burning sensation in her palm. Rosalyn undid the bandage on her hand and looked to find the wound from her blood vow healed. She whispered a little thank you to the spirit who sent the power then headed to the gate where Duncan was waiting for her.  
“Are you ready?” he asked.  
“Yes,” she answered, her chin lifting up to face him.  
“Good. Then we leave for Ostagar immediately,” he said, leading the way. Rosalyn turned to look back to the squalor and sorrow of her childhood home and squared her shoulders with a new strength of will. Turning, she walked through the gates and into a whole new world.

On The Road to Ostagar

Duncan had one stop to make before leaving the city, the Wardens compound at the royal palace. The place was deserted as all had gone to Ostagar for the coming war. He led Rosalyn to a small room off the main hall and she was surprised to find the room full of every kind of weapon she could imagine. Looking over at Duncan she asked, “These all belong to the Grey Wardens?”  
Duncan laughed at her surprise, “Yes, child. And now they belong to you. What strikes your fancy, hum? You’ll need to be well armed for what’s to come. Take your pick.”  
Rosalyn thought she had stumbled on a treasure worth more to gold, “This is…magnificent! We were only allowed to carry bows and a dagger in the Alienage. I had to train with wooden swords.” She walked to a rack of finely made bows and picked one up, testing its strength. She replaced it and picked up another, lighter, but more powerful in its draw, she shouldered it and went to a table of daggers. Testing several, she chose two finely made veridium daggers complete with runic tracery.  
Duncan watched his young apprentice as she perused the weapon racks, her eyes wide with envy and greed. He chuckled to himself as he remembered another young apprentice who had spent hours in such a room, trying every weapon to find just the right one. He still carried the dagger he’d chosen that day. “Such a pretty girl,” he thought to himself, “So very sad.”  
Looking down, he saw an old rucksack left behind; he picked it up, slipping out and walking through the other rooms, gathering necessities she might need; soap, towels, a comb and brush, thongs to tie her hair, and a small travel kit with flint and steel. He added some rose scented water he’d found in Rohan’s room, a gift for his latest paramour, no doubt. He finished the packing with some small sized clothing, some cloth, and a sewing kit and joined her in the weapons room.  
She had gathered a small pile of armaments that she had placed by the door. There were daggers, throwing knives, hundreds of arrows, a sharpening kit, and tools for arrow making, a bow and quiver. “How do you hope to carry all that?” he asked, amused.  
“I am stronger than I look,” she replied proudly, continuing to peruse the sword rack.  
He laughed heartily at her statement and was pleased to hear her laugh as well. She smiled at him then, and her face lit up, pleasing him greatly. “Here,” he said, tossing her the rucksack. “Some things you might need.”  
Rosalyn looked through the sack, smiling as she saw what he had packed for her. “All this for me?” she asked happily.  
“You will need much of it. We camp rough and there are few luxuries. You should always be prepared for the worst,” he answered. Rosalyn slowly took out the bottle of rose water and smiled, fingering it lightly.  
“Thank you, ser…Duncan,” she said softly and was rewarded with a deep bow and smile.  
“Now that you have chosen your weapons, come with me and we’ll get you outfitted properly.” He bent to help her pick up her weapons and led her out of the room and into another room nearby. There she found another treasure trove of armor and plate, more than she could ever wear.  
Duncan sized her up and began to pull things from the racks that might fit her, boots, chest pieces, gloves and a hood; all made especially for Grey Warden rogues. He selected two sets of heavily padded undershirts and breeches, telling her, “Try these on, I’ll wait outside, but be quick, we should be leaving soon.” He left the room, shutting the door behind him.  
Rosalyn quickly put on the armor, leaving some buckles that she would need help with. Opening the door, she found Duncan sitting at a table, eating some cheese he had found in the kitchen, pouring over a map. “I think whoever made this had a bit larger Warden in mind,” she remarked as she walked toward him.  
Duncan rose from the table and walked around her, perusing the armor and its fit. He walked back into the armor room, returning with another chest plate, “Try this instead,” he suggested, helping her remove the one she wore and put on the new one.  
With all the latches and buckles done, he stepped back to admire his work. “Very nice,” he told her, “A proper Grey Warden now.” Rosalyn smiled wide at his approval. She wanted very much to please him.  
“What now?” she asked.  
Duncan handed her the bow and quiver as she lashed her sword to her back and stashed the daggers and knives in their sheaths. “Off to Ostagar, we have a battle or two to fight. Are you ready?” She nodded, smiling up at him.  
“Then it is time to start. You are a Grey Warden now,” he said, leading the way to her adventure.

@@@@@

As it was late they traveled to a small inn outside of the city gates. Duncan got one room, explaining that Wardens often had to share and graciously offered her the bed while he slept on the floor. “I imagine you are very weary after your day.” Rosalyn was thankful and insisted he take one of her blankets.  
After a good meal in the tavern, she retired to the room for sleep but found she was unable to. She sat on the bed holding her left hand in the moonlight as it shone into the room. Nelaros’ ring twinkled in the light, “like a star in the heavens,” she thought. Rosalyn’s eyes began to tear up as she thought about Nelaros. It would have been their wedding night, spent in a cozy room in their new home, not an out of the way inn on her way to battle. He was handsome, kind and brave and she knew she would have been happy with him in the end. He was there now, with Shartan and the old ones, at the Maker’s side, safe from the trials they faced every day. There would be no prejudice there for him, only the love and kindness of the Maker’s hand, she hoped. “I will remember,” she told him.  
She laid her head down on the cot and her thoughts turned to her future. Rosalyn knew the stories of the Grey Wardens as most everyone did. They were the heroes of the Blight, riding their Griffins into battle with the mighty beat of wings. Unparalleled warriors, heroes to be admired, she had heard. Looking at Duncan, she could see that, but what of her?  
Rosalyn was a strong fighter, a near master with a bow and dual weapons along with some unsavory talents she’d picked up along the way. She had what she needed to succeed but doubt crept in; she was an elf, and a woman, a double-edged sword there. No one would take her seriously for anything unless it was as a household servant or a whore. She was neither.  
Perhaps it wasn’t so bad for her after all. The Grey Wardens were well respected throughout Thedas and treated well. As one of the order, she might have a piece of that respect as well. After all, wasn’t Garahel, the last hero to defeat an Archdemon, an elf? Wasn’t this her chance to do something better in the world; to rise above her station? It had to be better than what she would have had in the Alienage.  
Her thoughts were interrupted by Duncan as he quietly entered the room, trying hard not to wake her. Rosalyn smiled at the big man, taking such care of her. “You needn’t bother, I am awake,” she spoke, smiling slightly.  
“Forgive my fumbling around then,” he said. “You are well?” he asked, concerned that she was still awake.  
“As well as I can be, I suppose. It was supposed to be my wedding night, after all.”  
Duncan removed his chest plate and leaned it against the wall, stretching to remove the kinks from his muscles. “And here you are spending it with an old man,” he remarked, chuckling as he lay down on his pallet.  
“Not so old as you think, I would imagine, “she quirked, smiling.  
“Old enough to be your father, I dare say,” he added. After a pause he said, “Did you know I knew your mother?”  
Rosalyn sat up, intrigued. “You did? My father never spoke of you, nor did she that I remember.”  
He snorted a bit, “I don’t suppose your father would have. You mother, however, might have. I tried to recruit her before you were born. She was very interested but your father and Valendrian pleaded with me to hold off until later and I agreed. Perhaps it was for the better. It allowed me to wait until you were ready.”  
She smiled at his admission, and then grew silent for a while, gathering her thoughts. “Duncan?” she asked.  
“Hmm?” he replied.  
“What lies ahead?”  
Duncan smiled, remembering a time long ago when he had asked his mentor the same question. The answer was always the same, “An adventure, child; with more wonders than you can dream. But it starts with a good night’s sleep.”  
Rosalyn laid her head back, smiling at Duncan’s reply, then closed her eyes and let the adventure begin.

@@@@@

They would be four days on the road to Ostagar. There were few travelers on the road so they made good time. Duncan had purchased her a new cloak and some blankets before they left Denerim, “It will be cold there and you should be prepared,” he told her.  
During the day, she amused herself, asking questions about the Wardens and Duncan himself, gleaning every bit of information she could. They began to share much with each other, something Duncan had not done for a long time. He found himself enjoying her company for more reasons than he cared to admit and she felt the same.  
On the second night out from Denerim, Rosalyn was quiet, the recent events of her life catching up to her. They had camped in the woods, with a small fire, eating what they had managed to trap or kill during the day. She had been silent for a while, staring into the fire, when the tears had begun to fall, overwhelming her. Duncan had wondered when she would break and had watched her carefully for signs, knowing she would eventually. Seeing her now, he sat down beside her, gathering her up in his arms, stroking her hair as he knew her father might.  
Rosalyn clung to him for the duration, finally spending all her tears and quieting. Duncan continued to hold her, feeling comforted by the touch of her himself. It had been a long time since he had felt like that. He looked into her eyes and saw the pain she felt and willed it away as he lost himself in the amber depths.  
Her hand came up to his cheek and she slowly brought her lips to his, tentatively, a silent thank you for a great service given. Duncan was still, allowing the touch of her lips to his, feeling their softness and warmth. He hadn’t wanted for it to happen, she was so young and he wasn’t, but he felt it anyway, strong and steady, the inevitable desire that strikes a man when the woman is willing. His arms encircled her waist as he took her mouth in his, pulling her towards him. Her arms came around his neck, holding on to him, letting him have his way. His breath came heavy in anticipation and he pulled her into his lap, his hands stroking her body, feeling her come alive for him. Rosalyn shifted to straddle his legs, taking his mouth in a kiss then trailing her lips across his cheeks and neck, tasting him. He was unlike anyone she had ever met and she wanted him as he did her.  
As soon as it started for them, the passion cooled slightly and they slowly pulled back, looking at each other apologetically. He spoke slowly, “Rosalyn…”  
She brought her fingers to his lips, “Shhh…you need not say anything,” she said quietly, “There has been no wrong here, Duncan.”  
“I am too old,” he said, his voice tinged with regret.  
“And I am too young,” she answered. “It does not mean we cannot need, does it?”  
He ran his fingers through her hair, enjoying the feel, “No. It does not.”  
“Then we will have this. We will be denied soon enough,” she said. She pulled the ties of her shirt and removed it, baring herself for him. Yanking his shirt out of his breeches, he allowed her to pull it over his head. His breath became rapid as she kissed her way across his chest, her breasts and hips rubbing against him. Her mouth met his and she feasted, enjoying the power she had over him and his over her. Duncan lifted her and laid her on his sleeping pallet, pulling off his breeches and small clothes as she removed her own. He seized her mouth and showed her what need really was.

The Fortress at Ostagar

The fortress of Ostagar loomed tall in the distance as Duncan and Rosalyn approached. The day was clear and bright, the first in over a week, the guard at the first outpost had told them. They were waved through and soon found themselves at what had been the front gates of the old fortress. Rosalyn was amazed at the structure and its intricacies. She had thought the royal palace in Denerim to have been the most amazing structure she had ever seen and stopped short to take it all in.  
Duncan laughed at her wonderment, allowing her a few minutes to acclimate herself to the new surroundings before placing an arm around her shoulders and drawing her away, “There will be time enough to explore, my dear. I will show you all there is to see,” he promised her. Rosalyn smiled and nodded, allowing him to lead her away.  
As the entered the fortress itself, Duncan stopped her with a hand to her arm. “What is it, Duncan?” she asked.  
“I want you to stay within the fortress for now, love,” he told her. “I worry there aren’t enough troops to adequately protect us should the Darkspawn attack without warning. Arl Eamon’s troops are on their way but it could be days before we see them.”  
“But I thought you said they had won several battles?” she asked, concerned.  
Duncan looked down at her, “Loghain believes there are enough troops and has Cailan convinced as well. I wish I could make them believe they must wait. Too many troops are more desirable than not enough.” He looked off in the direction of the southern wilds, “I know there is an Archdemon behind this,” he said, more to himself than anyone.  
Rosalyn’s blood ran cold at his utterance, and she hugged herself to keep her composure. Duncan sensed the change in her and turned back, placing his hands on her arms. She looked up and asked, “What do you need me to do?”  
He smiled at her, she had become a rock for him, “Explore the camp here as you wish, but do not leave it. I will prepare for the Joining and take care of some business. There is a Grey Warden in camp named Alistair. Seek him out when you are ready. Be careful, love, and I will see you later.” He leaned down and kissed her, enjoying her taste and feel, trailing his lips over her cheek and neck. It crossed his mind to find a secluded spot where he could take her, he wanted her so. But there was work to do and no time, so with a last kiss, he reluctantly left her on the causeway.  
She smiled, watching him walk away, enjoying the feel of his lips on her skin and the warm sun on her face. 

@@@@@

The fortress was unlike any place she’d been before and yet just the same. Rosalyn found herself mistaken for a servant or laborer too many times to count. The last straw had been the quartermaster. He had been apologetic but she berated him about his treatment of his servants, explaining she was a Warden and should be treated as one. It wasn’t all bad though; as a result, she got a discount and a better price for the items she sold.  
A Chantry sister was kind enough to give her a bowl of soup and some bread as she hadn’t had anything since they had broken camp that morning. She and Duncan had been too occupied with each other to make breakfast and she had only grabbed a quick meal of cheese and bread.  
She sat at the makeshift Chantry they had set up along with several other soldiers and workers, eating and listening to the sisters at their worship. It was pleasant enough and reminded her of home. Her father would be at services now, reciting the Chant with the others, sending his prayers to the Maker for her safety. Rosalyn sent her own prayers for his protection, Shianni’s recovery, and Soris’ safety. She found herself beginning to miss Duncan’s company as she sat, and smiled, remembering their time together. Finishing her small meal, she thanked the sisters with a few coppers in payment and set off on her hunt for the other Warden.  
Alistair proved difficult to find; everyone she asked either didn’t know him or hadn’t seen him. Her mood was fouling as in the end she was forced to conduct a campsite by campsite search, finally locating him in an old temple near the mages’ camp.  
There was yelling coming from the temple as she approached so Rosalyn thought it wise to wait until it had finished. Waiting quietly at the top of the stairs she looked at the parties involved in the one-sided argument playing out before her.  
The mage seemed to be doing all the yelling. He was a middle sized, medium weight, average man, which did nothing to boost the man’s confidence, she was sure. His target however was anything but average.  
He was tall, a warrior who had trained long and hard; with muscular arms and legs from wielding a heavy sword and shield. His hair was the lightest brown with blond, combed back from his face, and he had the bluest eyes Rosalyn had ever seen. An intricate tattoo encircled his right eye, very similar to one Duncan had. Her pulse rose rapidly as she realized this was the long searched for Alistair, and even more surprised at the first words she heard him utter to her once the mage had departed, “You know, one good thing about the Blight is how it brings people together.”  
Rosalyn blinked twice. Once for the man and once for the phrase he uttered. “Yeah, right,” she said, sending him into a longer version involving something about holding hands with Darkspawn. Just as quickly, he moved on to asking her if she were a mage, which she denied, thus assuring him of his safety. “Wait, I do know who you are. You’re the new recruit, the elven rogue. I’m sorry, I didn’t notice.”  
She nodded at him, searching for her words.  
“I’m Alistair, the new Grey Warden,” he replied, awkwardly. She was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen.  
“I’m Rosalyn,” she said a little brusquely.  
Alistair looked closely at her for a moment, as if memorizing her for future reference, or for lunch, she couldn’t tell, “That was the name. I was wondering do you know why there aren’t more women in the Grey Wardens?” he asked thoughtfully, regretting his words the instant they were uttered.  
Rosalyn had no idea how to answer him. He was a handsome man and if she was to work with a shem, at least he was easy on the eyes; she could only hope he wasn’t as stupid as he was sounding at the moment, “Probably because we’re too smart for you,” she answered, insulting him.  
His eyes opened just a bit as the surprise wore off, but his reply was on par with hers, if not a little cautious, “Still, if you’re here, what does that make you?”  
“Just one of the boys, I guess.”  
“Sad, isn’t it?” he replied, smiling down at her. Rosalyn was relieved, “Not stupid at all,” she thought.  
Not stupid was the rest of the conversation, involving fighting Darkspawn and battles, all serious subjects of interest to both of them. At the end, she admitted to him that she did like Duncan very much, though he had no idea how much; she was pleased to meet him and that she could handle the Joining Ritual even though deep down it terrified her. When he asked if she were ready to find Duncan, she agreed, admitting to him that she looked forward to traveling with him. Surprisingly, he was stunned at her admission, making Rosalyn wonder if she had said the right thing.  
Alistair let her take the lead as they walked back to the campsite to meet Duncan and the other recruits, enjoying the view as they walked.

@@@@@

At the Warden campsite, she was introduced to Daveth, an admitted cutpurse from Denerim who told her he should have spent more time in the Alienage if there were beauties like her there. He was joined by a knight from Highever, Ser Jory, who groaned at Daveth but was polite enough to her. She thought Jory a bit of a snob and Daveth a little much but both seemed harmless enough for shemlen.  
Their task was simple enough, go into the wilds to collect vials of Darkspawn blood for the Joining ritual and assist Alistair in retrieving some documents that were located at an abandoned Grey Warden outpost nearby. Understanding their mission, they departed, Alistair leading. As she left the campsite, Duncan stopped her, “Be careful,” he whispered, his hand on her arm. She nodded, running to catch up with her companions.  
They battled wolves and Darkspawn from the first, more than Rosalyn had thought they would. She had no trouble with the wolves, having honed her skills on the packs of dogs and the rats that periodically terrorized the Alienage.  
Darkspawn were a totally different thing altogether. They were like humans and elves in that they fought as she did but that was where the similarities ended. Darkspawn were just as able as and more likely to kill you if they were injured than if not. “Don’t get the blood on you,” Alistair warned her, pulling her back from her latest kill, “It burns. Get it in your eyes and you’ll go blind, Warden or no.” she switched to her bow for the rest of the mission, by far her better weapon and a safer bet.  
They found the Warden outpost, surrounded by a band of genlocks, so Rosalyn headed for high ground and began to pick them off, one by one; injuring others so they could be quickly dispatched by her comrades. Alistair was impressed with her skill, “Where did you learn to shoot like that in the Alienage?” he asked, amazed.  
“My cousin Soris and I used to sit on the roof at night and pick off the rats and dogs that came to feed on the trash behind our house. I just pretended they were rats,” she admitted. Alistair laughed out loud at that, making Rosalyn a little angry with embarrassment. When he had turned to lead them on, Daveth leaned in and said, “It’s a compliment, Rosalyn. He likes you.” She narrowed her eyes a little, watching Alistair walk ahead of her, but soon nodded, eliciting a wink from Daveth.  
Entering the outpost slowly, they fanned out to locate the document chest, finally locating it on the back wall, smashed and broken. As she bent to examine the chest for clues as to what had happened, there came a voice she would never forget hearing the rest of her life, “Well, well, what have we here?”  
Her name was Morrigan, tall and slender, with an ample bosom and eyes like a cat. She came slinking down the stairs at the back of the tower, barely wearing a garment that could only be called a rag. There was an air of sexuality about her that even Rosalyn, as the only woman, could not claim to be immune from. Even Alistair’s outrageous utterance of, “Swooping is bad,” couldn’t faze her.  
Rosalyn convinced her to lead them to her mother, who Morrigan had informed them was the current keeper of the scrolls they desired. The old woman was equally difficult to understand and could only be considered a “nutty old bat;” but despite everything, managed to give up the scrolls and get them back to the fortress. Rosalyn was sure it was not the last time she and the women would cross paths.

@@@@@

Duncan was waiting for them to return, his gaze lighting up at the sight of Rosalyn with noticeable relief. He allowed them some time to prepare themselves for the Joining, and Rosalyn took the time to clean up and get something to eat. At dusk she made her way to the old temple where she had met Alistair earlier in the day, finding Jory and Daveth arguing about the ritual and its need for secrecy.  
Alistair was waiting for them there, his gaze smoldering as he took her in, causing Rosalyn to blush from the intensity of his scrutiny. He nodded towards her and smiled, and she nodded back, and then focused on the duty at hand.  
When the time came to start, Duncan entered the temple, welcoming them to the ceremony, explaining the ritual and its history and purpose. Alistair spoke the words of comfort, spoken at every Joining: "Join us, brothers and sisters. Join us in the shadows where we stand vigilant. Join us as we carry the duty that cannot be forsworn. And should you perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten. And that one day we shall join you."  
Daveth was first, taking the cup of Darkspawn blood in his hands and drinking, so sure was he of what he was doing. Rosalyn watched him succumb, his eyes turning white and his body collapsing to the ground in convulsions. She had never seen anything that struck so much fear into her and she found herself shaking from emotion and fright, nearly fainting herself.  
Jory was terrified and appalled at what he’d witnessed, deciding to draw a blade on them rather than give in to their wishes that he drink. Alistair drew his sword and stepped forward to stand in front of her as she was unarmed, his hand on her arm in reassurance as she watched Jory die by Duncan’s hand.  
With her fellow recruits lying dead at her feet, Duncan looked to her next. Alistair squeezed her arm and nodded to her, indicating she should take her turn. She looked into Duncan’s dark eyes and saw concern and worries but also something else she had never seen burning so brightly, conviction. He knew that what she was about to do was right. Looking first at Alistair then into Duncan’s eyes, she took the chalice and tipped it to her lips, drinking a mouthful of the foul concoction.  
What happened next was always fuzzy to her. She saw images of people she knew and those who had passed to the Maker’s side. Her mother was there, and Nelaros came to her with promises of greatness and temptations the flesh. The real test was the dreams and she said no to the demons in favor of life. At last she began to return to consciousness, Alistair’s voice guiding her as he spoke soothing words of comfort.  
Rosalyn woke in Alistair’s arms, her head aching and her body throbbing with pain or ecstasy, she knew not which. Duncan was there, her hand in his, helping her to her feet. She shook her head to clear the thick cobwebs that had formed, only to have them replaced with new ones. Looking down at her hand, she found she held an amulet of gold in the shape of the Grey Warden crest, pulsing in her hands like her heart. She knew she had changed and that change would come at a high price.

@@@@@

Duncan had told her that she had been summoned by the king to a meeting and had given her some time to gather her thoughts before joining him at the war council. Alistair had taken her hand in his, welcoming her as a sister in the order. His hand felt warm and good in hers and she found herself staring at it, marveling in the feel. When she looked up, he was watching her, his gaze thoughtful, with something else she didn’t recognize, but felt good to see and feel. He squeezed her hand, holding on a moment longer than he should, then dropped it and turned to return to the campsite. Rosalyn’s cheeks were red from exertion and the awkwardness of the situation and she lowered her head to hide it from him. He smiled and walked on and she knew he had no idea what affect he had had on her.  
Feeling able to continue her duties, she left the temple to walk to the council area only to run into Duncan, waiting for her at the foot of the steps. He took her hand, pulling her to the shadows and into his arms, kissing her as he had in the nights they had been together on the road. Breathless with want and desire, he released her. “You…are alive. I was worried. The Joining can be so….,” he trailed off, instead showing her his concern by taking her mouth, his hands running over her, assuring himself of her wellness, while inflaming their desire.  
“Duncan…?” she uttered, not able to speak through the emotions that warred in her.  
He released her slowly, gathering himself for his duty, to her, the Wardens and his king. “Later, love,” he said. “I will come to you.” She nodded and he turned and headed for the war council, Rosalyn following.  
The king was in an argument with Loghain as he was every time the two met. Rosalyn quietly walked to the rear of the group, standing just behind Duncan. The strategy of the battle was laid out for all present, and depended on the lighting of a single beacon from the Tower of Ishal on the far side of the fortress complex. Loghain offered his troops to handle the task, but the king desired the Wardens and assigned Alistair and Rosalyn to the task. She stepped forward to accept the duty on her and Alistair’s behalf.  
Later, she sat at the fire in their campsite, stomach reeling from dreams, nerves and Darkspawn blood. She had already been to the bushes twice to empty her stomach, and so far had managed to keep down the bread Alistair had given her and half the cup of tea. “It’s the only thing that worked for me,” he said, apologizing for the tea. “Cooking isn’t my best skill,” he explained. Rosalyn wondered out loud just what his best skill was, causing a chuckle from him and a small smile from her which ended in choking and Alistair pounding on her back until she stopped him.  
She set her sleeping pallet away from the fire, finding a secluded spot in the shadows. She laid her sword and bow down within reach, noticing that Alistair had moved his pallet a short distance away from her. She watched him as he laid it out then rolled to her side and closed her eyes, falling asleep in minutes.  
Duncan came to her after the others had gone to bed, his hands on her, searching. She gave him what she had, and took what he offered, reveling in the feeling of being needed and wanted. It was power and she craved it for what it gave her, the satisfaction and the ecstasy. It was more addictive than lyrium and infinitely more desirable. She cried out, her face buried in his shoulder as he spilled into her, his mouth finding hers. Almost as soon as he was there, he was gone from her with words of endearment and an apology and she was alone again. Rosalyn looked over to see if Alistair had heard, and saw the crystal blue eyes, shining in the dark.

@@@@@

The morning came too quickly for anyone, especially Rosalyn. She was awakened from her sleep by Alistair, “Put on your armor and follow me,” he told her earnestly. She rose and donned the armor, aware that he was nearby doing the same and could no doubt see her state of undress. Remembering why she was in that state, she blushed, knowing Alistair knew too. He said nothing, finishing his dressing, asking her to fasten some buckles and adjusting her breast plate when he felt it needed it. Satisfied, they headed to the fire, where Duncan waited on them.  
“You will go to the Tower of Ishal, where you will light the beacon, signaling Loghain’s men to charge,” was the order.  
“I’m to be left out of the battle again?” Alistair asked angrily.  
“It is the king’s desire that you undertake this task, a vital link in the communication chain. It is not for you to decide what you can and can’t do here,” Duncan rebuked him.  
“So if the king asks me to put on a dress and dance for him, I’m supposed to do that too?”  
Rosalyn’s eyes opened wider as she contemplated his statement, “I think I’d pay to see that.”  
“I’d dance for you for nothing,” he said, winking at her. Rosalyn smiled slightly at his regard and Alistair was pleased, realizing that he’d gotten her to smile. Duncan groaned, bringing them both back to the business at hand.  
“You have your orders, head to your station,” Duncan continued, “May the Maker watch over you both.”  
Alistair donned his helmet, answering his commander, “And you, Duncan,” he said, turning to go.  
Rosalyn stood still for a second, watching Duncan, then flipped up her hood and followed Alistair. She had gotten a few yards when she heard Duncan call her name. “Wait here, I’ll be right back,” she said.  
“Hurry,” was Alistair’s reply.  
She ran back to the fire and Duncan was waiting for her, “I wanted to tell you thank you,” he said, struggling with the words.  
“Why? I should be thanking you, I think,” she replied, smiling at his fumbling.  
He took her hand in his, “You gave me back my manhood,” he answered.  
Rosalyn felt the tears well up in her eyes at his admission. “You’re welcome,” she said, putting her other hand on his chest, near his heart.  
Duncan suddenly became very earnest with her, taking both her arms tightly in his hands, forcing her to look at him, “I want you to hear me, Rosalyn, and hear me well. Stay with Alistair, don’t lose him. He will protect you. Do you understand? You must stay together!”  
“I…I understand, Duncan. Please tell me what’s wrong,” she pleaded anxiously.  
Duncan looked off in the distance and his eyes were suddenly very far away, as if he had traveled to a distant place. Just as quickly they returned to her, “It is nothing, love, I hope. Just remember what I said.”  
“Of course, stay with Alistair.”  
“Be safe, love. Maker watch over you. Go now, Alistair waits for you.” With that he took her in his arms, kissing her with all the passion and need he could muster, pulling back slowly to rest his forehead on hers. He released her and she turned to leave, shouldering her bow. When she turned back one last time to look at him, he was gone.  
Alistair watched her as she approached him, noticing the tears in her eyes. “Is everything okay?” he asked, concerned.  
Rosalyn put out her hand to touch his arm, changing her mind at the last moment and wiping her face on her sleeve, “Yes,” she replied, swallowing her sadness, “Let’s go,” and headed towards the tower, flicking up her hood as she walked.  
Alistair looked back towards the campsite and shook his head, sighing, the pieces coming together at last.

@@@@@

The battle had begun with the first charge by the time they reached the causeway. Alistair and Rosalyn stopped at the edge, watching the ballistas as they fired volley after volley into the horde as it charged the fortress. The army was outnumbered at least four to one that she could see.  
Alistair suddenly grabbed her around the waist and pulled her aside, sheltering them against a wall as a fire bomb shot from a Darkspawn catapult hit right in front of them, exploding into flames that licked and burned everything within a twenty foot radius. He held her close as the flames dissipated, sheltering her with his body, and then held her face in his hands as he checked her for wounds. Rosalyn was weak-kneed as he held her, due to the possibility of death and his nearness to her. Convinced she was okay; Alistair gave her a hug of reassurance, and taking her hand in his, they worked their way across the causeway, avoiding the flames and ballistas.  
When they reached the tower they found it was overrun by Darkspawn who had come up from the field below through an unknown tunnel in the tower’s walls. With the help of the remaining guards they fought their way to the tower’s entrance and found themselves in a floor by floor battle to reach the top and the signal flame.  
“How did they get up here?” Alistair asked as they finished cutting down the latest wave to come from the tunnel.  
Rosalyn let off another arrow, watching as a genlock dropped in front of her. “This is the same man who was complaining about being left out?”  
Alistair laughed at her sarcasm, “A silver lining; I wouldn’t have expected that.” She smiled a little at his comment and he smiled broader.  
Each floor became progressively worse as they went on, with more and more Darkspawn around each turn. As they opened the doors to the top floor, they found themselves face to face with a Darkspawn ogre, three times their size and four times Rosalyn’s. She had never been so frightened, “Alistair?” she asked quietly, slowly inching her way to him.  
Alistair’s hand reached out and took her arm, more to reassure himself than her. Their companions, a guard and a mage, were slowly backing away along with them. Alistair sized the situation up, “Take the mage and attack from the right side, we will try to distract him long enough to let you do the work.” She nodded and began to inch her way to the right, looking for cover behind some stacked barrels. “Be careful!” hissed Alistair, giving her a smile that steeled her resolve.  
Unfortunately the ogre decided not to cooperate with their plan, heading straight for Rosalyn and the mage. She shot arrow after arrow, exhausting her store of poison. The ogre had slowed his attack, when Rosalyn noticed that Alistair had placed himself directly in its path. The beast reached out, knocking the guard away and pulled Alistair into a deathlike grip from which he was unable to escape.  
“Alistair!” she screamed, letting off a volley of arrows into the ogre’s neck, causing it to pause long enough for the mage to shoot a massive bolt of electricity, slowing it even more. Rosalyn shouldered her bow and reached to her belt for the last fire bomb and threw it at the ogre, setting it ablaze and releasing Alistair from its hold. He fell to the floor, dazed and coughing, and she grabbed the back of his breast plate and pulled him away as the mage froze the creature dead.  
Helping him to his feet, she passed him the water skin, encouraging him to drink to clear his burning throat and checked him for wounds. The mage cast a healing spell on him in case he had other injuries they were not aware of. “H…how did you manage that?” he croaked, coughing.  
Rosalyn gave him the water skin for another drink, “It’s just like fighting the Carta back home,” she said, handing him his sword.  
“That’s a story I want to hear,” he remarked, giving her one of his near dazzling smiles.  
“Perhaps,” she said, heading for a large fireplace against the wall. “How do I….?” she asked. The mage stepped up and cast a short burst flame at the tinder and it went up, seeping quickly up the chimney to the beacon above. “Amazing,” she said, looking up at the fire climbing to the top of the chimney.  
Much of what happened next ended as a blur to Rosalyn and even Alistair had little memory of it. The Darkspawn had begun to retake the lower floors of the tower as they had proceeded up, effectively trapping them on the top floor. The door braces were failing so they started to take positions of cover to gain an advantage. Rosalyn got halfway to her hiding place when the doors gave way and the Darkspawn surged in, more than they could possibly fight.  
The last things she remembered were the sound of arrows being loosed and the pain of a dozen arrow wounds. She fell to the floor, looking up to the sky only to see the flames of destruction and the shadow of a dragon.

Korcari Wilds

Pain had become a constant companion to her. She lost track of time, barely noting the whether it was night or day. There was laughter sometimes, gentle hands touching her, smoothing her hair and wiping her face with water, and then sleep would come, the comfort of oblivion. At other times she heard chanting, someone calling her name, and a familiar voice reciting a prayer; it was so jumbled that she stopped trying to make sense of it.  
At last the wheel of time began to move, the pain subsided, and the days moved as they should. Rosalyn opened her eyes to find herself in bed, a threadbare quilt covering her naked body. She slowly rose and looked down, seeing the newly formed scars that traced and worked their way across her chest and stomach and touched them, testing their reality.  
A voice came, slightly familiar in that she’d heard it before, “They are real,” it said. “You are alive.” It was a simple statement of fact with no details.  
“Where am I?” she asked.  
“Back in the wilds, of course. I am Morrigan, if you have forgotten. Mother brought you here and we have tended you and your friend,” was the answer.  
“Alistair? He is alive?” She was relieved that he was still with her.  
Morrigan walked to the table by the wall and picked up a pile of clothing then walked back to the bed and handed it to Rosalyn; her clothes and armor, cleaned and mended. “He is outside by the fire,” she answered. “Mother wishes to see you there.”  
Rosalyn nodded, knowing she would get little out of the girl, and dressed, Morrigan helping with the armor buckles. She picked up her weapons and left the hut.  
He was standing by the pond outside, alone. Rosalyn stopped at the doorway a moment to watch him; he looked so lonely and sad. As she approached the fire, Morrigan’s mother announced her arrival.  
Alistair turned and gave Rosalyn a look she would never forget, a mix of relief, anxiety, sadness, and as found out later, love. He closed the distance between them quickly only to stop and look at her, his eyes passing over her, scanning her body for anything amiss or different. Finding nothing wrong, he took her in his arms, giving her a hug, exclaiming, “You’re alive!” Rosalyn was surprised at his enthusiasm, but clasped him around the neck and let him hug her.  
He pulled away and she looked up to see his face had changed. His hands found hers and he uttered the words that had been haunting him for the three weeks he had been waiting for her, “Duncan’s dead.”  
Rosalyn looked down, noticing how tightly he held her hands; he was dead. She had known all along he would be; he had told her so. Alistair continued, “The other Wardens, the army, even the king, all gone.”  
She knew they had little chance without the help of Loghain’s forces and their charge, but to lose so completely? “What of Loghain? Did he see the signal?”  
“He left the field with his troops. They were spotted on the road, heading north,” interjected Morrigan’s mother.  
The guise of Morrigan’s mother, they soon found, was Flemeth, the Witch of the Wilds. She had rescued them from the tower just before their deaths and brought them here to heal. Flemeth presented them with the Grey Warden treaties, found by her as she scouted the fortress. “Use them to recruit an army,” she suggested.  
It was an idea that enchanted Alistair; the dwarves, Dalish elves, and the mages with the help of Arl Eamon’s army would meet the horde and destroy the Archdemon. Rosalyn agreed and they prepared to leave, thanking Flemeth for her kindness.  
“There is one thing you could do for me,” she said, as Morrigan appeared to see them off. “You will go with them,” Flemeth told Morrigan.  
“What!” Morrigan cried. “I am not ready, you said…”  
“Go with them,” she insisted and Morrigan became silent and went to gather her things. To them Flemeth said, “Grey Wardens, I trust you with her.”  
Rosalyn looked at Alistair, who shrugged and nodded reluctantly,” She won’t come to any harm,” she told her.  
With extra help in tow, they left the hut, heading to Lothering, and the rest of the world.

The Road to Lothering

Heading north from Flemeth’s they finally reached the Imperial Highway which they followed to Lothering. It had fallen into disrepair in many places which forced them to walk alongside its length, in the wagon tracks left by numerous travelers over the centuries.  
Rosalyn had been quiet throughout the day, listening to the annoying banter of Alistair and Morrigan. The two had taken an immediate dislike to each other. He thought her a know-it-all and a pain, she considered him stupid and useless. Neither was able to convince the other of their point of view. Rosalyn quickened her pace a bit to pull ahead of them, trying to get away from the incessant chatter. It didn’t work  
They made camp just before dark. Rosalyn had shot two rabbits, which Alistair cleaned, while Morrigan gathered some roots and wild vegetables and Rosalyn started a fire. The three of them had managed to scavenge some equipment as they headed north. Many survivors of Ostagar had been forced to abandon things they could not carry. Cooking pots, tents, sleeping pallets and even blankets were common items found along the road in addition to the occasional body. They picked up what they needed, saying short prayers for the fallen.  
After supper, Morrigan and Alistair started up an argument involving someone’s battle against somebody and whether it was fought some time or some time else. Rosalyn had had enough. Grabbing a bucket, towel and soap, she headed to the stream to wash and get some peace for a bit.  
She was drying her hair as she watched the stars begin to twinkle when she heard someone clear their throat. Looking up, she saw Alistair waiting in the trees, watching her. “You shouldn’t be out here alone. We don’t know for sure where the horde is right now,” he warned.  
Rosalyn stopped and closed her eyes, listening with her senses. There was no sign she could detect. “They aren’t here. I’d know,” she said, still annoyed.  
“So you can already do that; took me months before I could sense them that well.” He came forward and sat down on the log not far from her. “Are you mad at me, Rosalyn?” he asked.  
She looked up, “And why would you think that?” she replied sarcastically.  
“You haven’t said three words all day, you hardly eat any dinner, and now you stomp off by yourself. It sounds like mad to me,” he explained, kneeling down to take a drink from the stream.  
Rosalyn watched him as he knelt, admiring his form and look. He had the gait and countenance of a man who had trained with heavy weapons for many years; a warrior. She was rogue trained; picking up whatever she could learn from whoever would teach her after her mother had died. He rose and turned back to her, sitting back down on the log. “You haven’t answered my question,” he reminded.  
She turned to look out over the water towards the horizon, “I was thinking,” she replied, her voice soft and thoughtful, “About Duncan.”  
Alistair turned away from her, his thoughts straying to the man he had called commander, mentor and friend. “I’m sorry,” he said, “I know you and he….I’m sorry.” His voice turned angry as he said the next, “He didn’t deserve what happened.”  
She shook her head, “No, he didn’t.” She paused, collecting her thoughts, “Duncan and I…it wasn’t what you think, Alistair. He and I…needed each other; there was no one else at the time. I needed comfort and in the end, he did too.”  
Alistair’s eyes opened wide at her admission. It was the first time he had ever heard her talk about herself. “I…well; I thought that…” He cleared his throat, searching for the right words, “Look, I owe you an apology. I wasn’t watching that night before the battle. I know it looked like it and all but I wasn’t,” he rose, pacing back and forth in front of her, a habit she would later learn was born out of nerves. “I was worried about you. It’s why I moved my pallet near yours. There were men in the camp who would take advantage of an attractive young girl alone. I wanted to make sure you weren’t…bothered.” He paused again, letting his words sink in. “When I saw Duncan go over to your pallet, I thought he was checking up on you. It wasn’t until I heard the two of you that I realized it was….something else. I didn’t see him so I thought someone had…well…forced himself on you. I turned to check is all. I turned right back as soon as I knew it was…welcomed.”  
Rosalyn considered the man she sat next to very carefully. He had just admitted to her that he had essentially watched her and Duncan have sex and was apologizing for it. His face had turned a light reddish color, making his blond hair seem even blonder in contrast; coupled with his crystal blue eyes, it was a delightful sight; she had to admit. She was absolutely flabbergasted at his behavior.  
Reaching a decision, she stood up and walked over to where he stood near the stream. She slowly put her hand on his arm, quietly saying, “Apology accepted. Thank you, Alistair.” She turned then, picked up her bucket and walked back to camp, leaving him to be flabbergasted for a while as he watched her walk away.

@@@@@

The last curve of the highway turned to reveal the sleepy hamlet of Lothering in the distance. Alistair had been there before on his travels from his home in Denerim and had described it as a quiet place, a stop on the road to Redcliffe. It was anything but quiet from what Rosalyn could see.  
A half mile from the village gates they were intercepted. Bandits had turned the approach to the town into a trap, catching the unsuspecting refugees as they tried to enter. Three well-armed travelers were easy prey to the half dozen or so thieves.  
The leader hailed them as they approached, “Look what we have here, friends. More fun?”  
His nearest companion was not so swayed, “They don’t look like regular travelers.”  
“Nonsense! The toll to pass will be ten silvers. Surely they can afford that.”  
Rosalyn knew how to handle these types; they were common in her line of work. “I don’t have that kind of coin,” she announced, haughtily.  
The bandit leader shook his head, laughing,” And if I don’t believe you?”  
Rosalyn smiled, a knowing smile that said she knew what the man was about and would take care of him quickly. Morrigan choked back a laugh, realizing what was happening and put her staff to the ready. Rosalyn’s reply was short and to the point, “I kill you. Problem solved.”  
The leader sized her up as an elven woman half his size with a half-naked mage and an armored dandy; no problem in his mind. “Shall we finish gents?”  
Rosalyn’s attack was quick and well-timed. She struck out at the first bandit that attacked her, dropping him with a sword thrust to the chest. Morrigan and Alistair dispatched those closest to their positions with as much ease. Morrigan took care of the bowmen while Alistair dealt with the next available sword that swung at him. Rosalyn concentrated her strokes on the bandit leader, wearing him down with her dodging and parrying until he cried out, “Enough! We’re just trying to get by!”  
Rosalyn kept her sword pointed at his neck, “Hand over what you’ve stolen,” she demanded.  
“Yes! Here it is, over a hundred silvers; more in the chests. Please, let me go!”  
Her smile returned as she considered him, “Thank you,” she said, slowly lowering her sword. The bandit’s face broke into a smile of arrogance; a look she was all too familiar with in the smuggler’s world, and his hand slowly moved to the dagger at his belt. Rosalyn caught the movement and quickly reached into her belt, pulling out a throwing knife. The movement was quick and done before any could stop her, leaving a body slowing sinking to the ground, the knife embedded in his neck. She rifled through his pockets, taking what she found of value and stuffing it in a sack from her pack.  
Alistair stared as she mechanically searched the bodies, his expression wavering between horror and surprise. “You killed him? He had surrendered!”  
She rose from her task and looked at him, “It would have been him or me.”  
“You don’t know that!” His hand came up to his head and he ran his fingers through his hair, a nervous gesture as he considered what had happened. “Why did you have to kill them all?”  
Morrigan looked at Rosalyn, her eyes narrowing a bit, “It does seem a bit…much.”  
Alistair turned on the witch, “Oh, now we agree.”  
“It was a statement. It was not meant to convey any opinion, fool,” was her cool reply. Alistair threw up his hands and turned to Rosalyn.  
“So if he had not surrendered, then what would have happened?” he asked, his anger clipping his speech.  
“There would have been no second conversation,” she replied coolly. She walked to the chests that were stacked against a wagon. Opening them, she revealed cooking utensils, clothing, books and toys; pulling the cover off the wagon revealed furniture and trunks, a family’s possessions. “Ask the owners of this if killing them was right,” she declared, furiously. “Ask them if they had a ‘choice.’” She replaced the lids on the chests, and recovered the wagon bed, tying it down. Alistair stared at her as she passed him; his expression unreadable, then he turned and followed her into the town.

Lothering

The Warden travelers stood at the gates of the little town, waiting their turn to gain entry when Morrigan began her hourly diatribe with Alistair. This one involved his recent long bouts of silence since Rosalyn had told him about her and Duncan. “Leave him alone, Morrigan,” she told the woman, still worked up from their scene with the bandits.  
“So this is where we find you’ve never had a friend your entire life?” he threw at the witch, sneering.  
Morrigan gave him the narrow-eyed look she got when perturbed, “I have ‘friends’ as you so interestingly call them. However, just willing yourself to be more intelligent does not necessarily make you so.”  
“Enough!” yelled Rosalyn as the her companions glared at her; Alistair upset by her recent killing spree and Morrigan upset at her being upset. “Did either of you have something to add or suggest in regards to our current mission?”  
Alistair spoke first, tentatively, “We should decide where we want to go first.” Morrigan opened her mouth but shut it quickly once she saw Rosalyn’s face, she nodded instead.  
“We should pursue the treaties then. Which one is closer?” Rosalyn asked.  
“Arl Eamon is our best bet and he is closest, a two day journey,” he answered quickly.  
“Then let’s go,” she decided, taking charge and keeping them moving. She knew Alistair wanted to talk to her about the bandits and who knew what else but she didn’t need that now. She was too mad.  
Entering the town was easy. As Grey Wardens, their tunics were recognized immediately and they received much help from the local guards. As they walked along, Morrigan began asking Alistair why he let Rosalyn lead, which lead to a conversation about her time in the forest. Rosalyn noticed that if she took out the snide looks of superiority that each one was giving the other, they were actually being quite civil with each other. “It’s a start,” she thought and headed down the road.  
As they made their way to the chantry, Rosalyn spied an elven couple with their daughter standing by the roadside. They would occasionally talk to someone who passed but would be brushed off. She walked over to them, greeting them in the elven tongue. The couple smiled and greeted her warmly as she introduced herself.  
Alistair watched her as she spoke to the couple, her face lighting up as she talked to the little girl, bending down to look into the girl’s eyes as she spoke. Morrigan had taken the opportunity to disappear for a few moments so he walked over to where she stood and greeted the couple himself. “How do you do, ser,” they replied, warily.  
“My friend is a Grey Warden too,” explained Rosalyn, nodding in his direction. The elven couple nodded, quite impressed. “Please tell him what you told me,” she asked them.  
“We were entering the city from the south when we were set upon by bandits. We only managed to get away with what you see here. We lost our wagon, furniture, everything we owned,” he reported.  
Alistair looked down at Rosalyn as she continued to speak to the man and his wife. “Here are fifty silvers to help you get back on your feet. Those bandits are dead now.”  
“You…killed them? That’s wonderful news! I can’t thank you enough!” The family nearly ran back to the highway to salvage their goods. The little girl stopped and looked up at Alistair saying, “Oh, thank you, Ser Warden!” before running after her parents.  
He watched them run off then turned to Rosalyn to find her speaking to a lost boy she had found by the bridge. She handed him a silver coin and watched him run off towards the chantry building. She waited at the bridge for him to join her. “It was their goods that we found, wasn’t it?” he asked cautiously.  
“Apparently, it was,” she replied coldly. She was still angry at his outburst and needed more time to cool so Alistair backed off, letting her have her space. She turned and headed to the chantry, letting him follow behind.

@@@@@

Morrigan had returned to them as they entered the chantry to find out more information from the outside world. The Templars told them that the Grey Wardens had been blamed for the incidents at Ostagar. While they knew it to be untrue, they insisted the Wardens be careful, a price had been placed on their heads. Loghain’s men had been seen in the area.  
Alistair found an old friend, Ser Donall from Redcliffe, who had come to the chantry to research the Urn of Sacred Ashes. Alistair was distressed to find out that Arl Eamon was ill and was not recovering despite all the treatments that had been administered. Ser Donall had been sent out to locate any information on the Urn in hopes of using it to devise a cure. He bid them all good day and left to return to Redcliffe.  
Rosalyn looked at Alistair, trying to read him. She could sense the turmoil, almost as if she could feel his emotions. She took a quick step back, breaking the connection. He turned to look at her, and she could almost feel his thoughts, as if there was a link between them. As quickly as it was there, it was gone and he was walking away. Rosalyn was unsettled by the feeling, showing her unease. Morrigan looked at the two of them with curious regard, and turned to follow Alistair, Rosalyn behind her.  
She found him outside the chantry doors, looking out over the village. “How much money do we have left?” he asked, continuing to look out.  
Rosalyn opened her purse and counted out what she had left; ten silvers and forty seven coppers. Alistair had only half that. “We need to resupply and this won’t be enough if we have to pay inflated prices.”  
“So what then? The chantry board, maybe?” she suggested. He nodded and led the way, finding them a job clearing more bandits out of the surrounding area, much to Rosalyn’s surprise and Morrigan’s disgust. He led the way out of town to the last known location of the bandits.  
It didn’t take long to find them as they were attacked immediately upon leaving town. There was no reasoning with this bunch so they made short work of them, collecting the bodies together for ease of disposal. They walked along, rounding a tree-topped hill to find themselves deep in combat again, clearing out the last of their targets. Rosalyn was surprised to see Alistair searching the bodies of the dead, pocketing money and valuables.  
They headed back to town on a different route, passing close to a stream that ran into town. A long hill had been built to deflect the floods that came every spring. Rosalyn was leading the way when she was attacked by a group of large spiders that had been hiding on the opposite side of the hill. “Rosalyn!” yelled Alistair as he ran to her, Morrigan following.  
Rosalyn drew her daggers and began to fight her way out of the group but soon found herself encased in a web, unable to move. Morrigan cast spell after spell, alternately freezing and burning the creatures while Alistair hacked his way through them. Rosalyn looked up to see him coming for her, passing into darkness as the web covered her face.  
When she woke she found herself in Alistair’s arms like she had when she had awakened at the Joining ceremony. She could feel him near her, seeking her in the darkness and opened her eyes to see him looking down at her. He hugged her close, and then released her, saying, “Don’t ever do that again! You were nearly killed!”  
“I won’t, I promise,” she told him, managing a weak smile as she slowly rose to her feet with his help. Morrigan offered her a drink which she took gladly, thanking her and getting a slight smile in return.  
“Okay?” he asked, concern still evident on his face.  
“Much better,” she said, nodding up at him. His face lit up and he gave her one of his smiles. Rosalyn suddenly felt more comfortable with him and smiled back.

@@@@@

They made their way back to the village slowly to allow Rosalyn some time to rest and recover from her attack. At the edge of town they discovered a strange man in a crow’s cage. Questioning him revealed he was imprisoned for killing a local family. Morrigan wanted to release the man and let Alistair take his place, Rosalyn had a different idea and told the man, called Sten, she would return soon.  
As they entered the village, Alistair suggested they visit the local tavern to sell the goods they had and listen for news. Entering the tavern proved to be an adventure as they were forced to fight several of Loghain’s troops that were still in the village. They were easily beaten with the help of a chantry sister who introduced herself as Leliana and asked to come with them to help. Her skills with a blade were excellent and she knew the bow as well so they invited her along.  
Alistair sold their items, getting enough to fortify their provisions and to purchase a set of armor for Leliana. They made their way to the chantry to collect their bounty and talk to the revered mother, who was understanding of their plight and agreed to release Sten into their custody. She gave Leliana the key to the cage.  
Sten proved very receptive to their offer of a chance for atonement for his crimes. Alistair welcomed the additional male presence even if Sten’s personal opinion of him was lacking. He willingly took the big Qunari warrior to buy a weapon and armor and was pleased to discover that the big man’s presence made haggling every easy for him.  
With all avenues for information and work exhausted the group headed into the Bannorn with a final destination of Redcliffe village. Walking along the fencerows, Rosalyn suddenly stopped, her senses tingling, warning her of nearby Darkspawn. “Alistair? Do you…?”  
“Yes,” he answered. “Everyone, fan out, Darkspawn ahead.” Sten worked to the right with Rosalyn to cover him and Alistair went left with Leliana to cover. Morrigan moved to a rise nearby and signaled the location of the enemy to them. She fought from a distance and covered them with her spells.  
The victims were a dwarven merchant and his son, who had been attacked as they fled the village. The Wardens rushed the Darkspawn as they menaced the dwarves, surprising them. The merchant introduced himself as Bodahn Feddic and his son, Sandal. They asked to join them as they traveled along but were reluctant to travel with Grey Wardens under the circumstances. Rosalyn found them a pleasant sort for dwarves.  
Alistair suggested they move on to a place he knew that would make an excellent campsite and they moved on. Rosalyn was happy to relinquish command for a while to Alistair, he was kind and the others took his orders well, even Morrigan. But she knew she had to face what had happened with the bandits and her growing feelings for her fellow Warden soon. He deserved an explanation.

The Road to Redcliffe

The campsite they had selected was a few hours walk from Lothering so Rosalyn found that she had time to talk to her companions as they strolled along. Morrigan and Sten were less than enthusiastic about the prospect of revealing any of their personal thoughts to the others which left her Leliana and Alistair. Along the road she discovered that Leliana had been a bard in Orlais before she came to Ferelden. She knew many stories and songs and was eager to show off her talents, entertaining them as they walked along.  
When Leliana went off with Sten to search for some game for dinner, Rosalyn found herself walking with Alistair in awkward silence. They took turns watching each other out of the corners of their eyes, until she finally reached out with her senses to gauge his mood. Finding nothing but confusion, she broke the ice first, “Alistair, why the Templars? Surely there were other alternatives.”  
Alistair laughed at her question, surprised she would even care. “That came out of the blue. You really want to know?” Rosalyn nodded. “It wasn’t my choice, I was sent there when I was ten. I’m…well, I’m a bastard. My parents were dead and Arl Eamon raised me. I guess you could say I was inconvenient, so they sent me to the monastery.”  
“That’s a terrible thing to do to a child,” she told him, “How did you take it?”  
“Oh, not well at all, that’s for sure!” He smiled his smile for her, “I did like the training and the schooling very much and I was good at the talents, but I never felt welcome. I’m not exactly the religious type.”  
“I guess I can see that.”  
“It wasn’t until I joined the Wardens that I ever felt at home. Where do you call home, I never had a chance to ask.”  
Rosalyn squinted in the sun, looking ahead at the road, “I’m from Denerim, the Alienage. Not a great place but my family is still there, my father and cousins. But I guess my home is with the Grey Wardens…and you.” She looked down at the road speaking the last, suddenly feeling very shy, wondering if she had gone too far.  
Alistair was dumbstruck for a moment then managed to continue, “Wow, I didn’t know you felt that way.” He paused a moment, looking at his boots, forming his thoughts, “We won’t always travel around, you know; eventually, after the war, we will need to find a real home. If there are any of us left to need one.”  
“We can rebuild. Will you help me?”  
“Always,” he said, melting her with a smile that she returned.  
They continued on in silence again for a few minutes more, still watching each other warily out of the corners of their eyes. “You still have questions,” he noticed.  
“Well…yes, I suppose I do. Do you mind so much? You are the only source of information I have, you know,” she admitted.  
He laughed, “I’m no expert, Rosalyn, but okay. What do you want to know?”  
“How did you become a Grey Warden?”  
“Well, there was this ceremony, and I drank blood and choked, passed out and had really bad dreams. When I woke up I got a necklace and new armor. It was a regular Saturday night.”  
“Very cute,” she retorted. “What’s the real story?”  
Alistair stepped aside pulling her along by the arm as a large wagon rolled by them. She smiled at his thoughtfulness and he started, “Duncan recruited me at the abbey during a tournament the Grand Cleric held in honor of the Grey Wardens. She wouldn’t let me go, so he conscripted me.”  
“He had to conscript me too,” she said.  
“Really? I thought he had asked you. Why did he have to use conscription?”  
Rosalyn grew very quiet, not really knowing how to answer him. He was a shemlen and the knowledge that she was a criminal could be detrimental to their relationship. Alistair could sense her discomfort, but let her make the decision to share or not. Finally she answered him and her voice was quiet, “I was on my way to the gallows.”  
Of all the things he had heard from her, he had not expected that. “Oh, I’m…I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”  
“No one does,” she said. “He saved my life that day. The price was my becoming a Warden. I was unwilling but there was no other way out.” Rosalyn stopped and looked up at him, “I’m glad I did though.”  
“But he tore you from your family and all you knew. I had a choice and was conscripted because the Templars wouldn’t honor that choice. Why are you glad?”  
Rosalyn looked up at Alistair, all the feelings she had about him, the Wardens and Duncan evident in her countenance, “Because if he hadn’t, I’d be dead and wouldn’t have met you.”  
The smile she got from him then threatened to knock her to her knees but she simply returned it, nodding her approval. They walked on down the road, the air between them much clearer.

@@@@@

The group reached the campsite location shortly before dark. Sten went to work preparing two geese he and Leliana had shot on their hunt. He admitted he was quite impressed with her bow skills despite the fact that she was a “female.” Apparently it was a point of contention between the two but they had reached a truce and decided not to agree. Rosalyn giggled and wondered if she was next.  
Morrigan and Rosalyn hunted for roots and herbs to add to the meal, and Rosalyn was grateful that the mage was willing to share her knowledge of the forest with her. Leliana prepared a stew of the vegetables and herbs and had made some biscuits with flour she had purchased from Bodahn, the dwarven merchant they had saved outside of Lothering. He had camped nearby, taking advantage of their safety.  
Rosalyn and Alistair visited the wagon for trading and invited them to their fire for dinner; the two merchants accepted gratefully, bringing some fruit for dessert. Rosalyn was able to negotiate a deal where the dwarves would carry their provisions and barter for them in return for their protection on the road. It was a good bargain for both as the companions would not have to spend so much time scavenging their provisions. Alistair complemented her on her quick thinking.  
After supper they were entertained by Leliana’s stories until Rosalyn finally had to call it quits. The night was warm and clear, so the group slept outside near the fire. She laid out her pallet and was soon fast asleep.  
He came to her in her dreams, promising her things, anything she desired if she would follow him. She found his voice pleasing and wanted to hear more and more, but she knew it was wrong. The things she did there were so horrible but felt so good and she wanted more. When the desire had built to a peak, he showed himself, the dragon, in his pit of fire, beckoning her to join him. Rosalyn screamed, calling for help, when she felt a shaking and a familiar voice calling her, begging her to wake.  
Slowly she opened her eyes, her vision cloudy, and began to be aware of her surroundings; the camp, the fire, the strong arms that held her tight. She looked up to see the concerned face of Alistair, holding her close and stroking her hair, crooning her name. Rosalyn’s mind was sluggish and she slowly sat up, Alistair supporting her. “Bad dreams?” he asked, the concern he had for her evident in his voice.  
“It was so real.”  
“It is real. You’re hearing the Archdemon talk to the horde; giving them commands and directions. It’s how we know it’s really a Blight.” His expression was serious, this was no lie and he wanted her to know it. “Duncan knew it for certain.” His face softened a little as he added, “You will be able to block out the dreams after a while. It just takes a little time.”  
Rosalyn shifted on her pallet to allow him to sit with her. He sat down, surprised but pleased she was allowing him close. “Thank you,” she said.  
“That’s my sole reason for being here,” he quipped and she smiled a little.  
They sat in quiet companionship for a few minutes, staring into the fire. When Rosalyn peeked at him, she noticed he still had the sad, wistful look in his eyes and she was curious. “Do you want to talk about Duncan?”  
His head snapped around to look at her, but his gaze was soft, “We…don’t have to.”  
She started anyway, “We hadn’t met until the day I was conscripted, just five days before I met you. We spent the first night in an inn and he slept on the floor. He was kind and gentle…and sad.”  
“How did you…?” he asked carefully.  
“The second night out I was so distraught. I missed my family, my friends, and my home. I couldn’t take it; everything was so different and scary. He comforted me and…it went too far, we couldn’t stop and didn’t want to,” her voice was a whisper as she remembered his touch on her skin and the feel of him inside her. She blushed but kept going. “We…took longer getting to Ostagar than we should. But through it all, I knew it would end between us, no matter what happened.”  
Alistair smiled slightly. He had never known this side of his friend and mentor and he was pleased to see that he had been able to die happier than he was in life. “I’m…glad he found you. I think you made him happy at the end,” he told her; “I know he wasn’t happy; he knew his calling was upon him and it was just a matter of time. He died as he wanted to, even if it was unnecessary.”  
“Are you really…glad he found me?”  
Alistair placed his hand over hers as it rested on the blanket, “Yes,” he said, looking down at her, “I should have handled it better.”  
“He was your friend, you miss him.” She looked down at their joined hands amazed that he would be so bold and liking the feeling that he was, “He knew he was going to die. I think he saw it, but he was prepared. The last thing he told me when he called me back to the fire that morning, was to stay with you. ‘Alistair will protect you” he said, “Don’t lose him and don’t leave him.’ I don’t plan on it.”  
Alistair raised her hand and held it tightly, “He told me to never leave your side, whatever happens.’ I won’t.” He looked into her eyes, the blue going misty, “He came from Highever; I want to put a monument up to him when this is over.”  
“I’ll help,” she said and he smiled.  
They watched the fire for a while then Alistair spoke his mind. “I wanted to apologize for yelling at you about the bandits. I…I should have been more diplomatic.”  
“You were right, Alistair. He had surrendered and I didn’t honor it. You had every right to be angry. But what you didn’t see was that he was going for his dagger. He would have killed me where I stood if I hadn’t killed him.” She let go of his hand and turned to the fire, resting her head on her knees, “In the Alienage, I worked for a group of smugglers. I was a guard and delivered goods and collected money from buyers all over Denerim.”  
“So that’s where you learned your skills?”  
Rosalyn nodded and turned back to him, “My experiences with human men haven’t been very good and I tend to look at them all the same. You aren’t like any of them, and I’m sorry if you think I don’t like you. I do.”  
He laughed, shaking his head, “I don’t mind, I seem to have that effect on women, human and elven.”  
“Your effect is not always what you think.”  
“Oh? And just what is it?” he asked, humorously.  
Rosalyn turned a bright shade of red, contrasting with her dark red hair. “They…like you better than you think.”  
He leaned into her and she could feel his breath on her neck as his lips came close to her ear, “And what do you think?” he whispered.  
She turned towards him just enough for his lips to brush her ear, sending shivers down her spine. “I think you are more aware of your effect on them than you let on. And it’s time I went back to sleep for a while.” Alistair moved off the blanket to allow her to lie down, but stayed next to her. “Good night, Alistair.”  
“Sweet dreams this time, Rosalyn,” he said tenderly.  
Alistair watched over her as she slept but his mind was focused on one thing; when Rosalyn had screamed for help in her dream, she had called his name.

@@@@@

The next day the group headed on to Redcliffe, through the hills that bordered the Arl’s lands. Alistair suggested he and Rosalyn lead the way so they could sense any Darkspawn in the area. Bodahn had spoken to a traveler who had mentioned some had been seen in the area.  
As they moved through a narrow pass through the hills, she suddenly felt that something was wrong. Alistair looked down at her and nodded, a sign he felt it too. “Not Darkspawn,” he said, “Something else.” He drew his sword as she nocked an arrow, the other companions following suit.  
“Spread out, “she told them, knowing they would do as they were told, finding optimum places to begin their attack. Rosalyn, Sten and Alistair walked through the pass to allow Morrigan and Leliana to take places of concealment up high for their bow and magic attacks. They were met by a distraught young woman who claimed she and her party had been attacked and begged their help. She ran off and they followed, watching warily for any unusual activity.  
They had gone about a hundred feet when they were set upon by a dozen fighters in total, some on the ground ahead of them and others up high using bows or magic. Leliana and Morrigan concentrated on the bowmen and mage while the others took out the ground troops. At the battle’s end, all lay dead except one lone rogue, an elf.  
Sten tied the man’s hands and feet and Alistair threw a bucket of water on him to wake him up. “Uhhhh…I thought I was dead,” were his first words and he struggled a bit with his ropes causing Sten to put a foot on his chest to hold him still.  
Rosalyn looked at Alistair, who nodded, “That could change, you know.”  
“Of that I’m sure. You are most talented, so why am I still alive?” he asked curiously.  
“You know, you’re awfully glib about all this,” Rosalyn noticed, annoyed that he wasn’t intimidated.  
A deep throated laugh came from their prisoner as he contemplated his captors, “It’s my way. My name is Zevran and I am an Antivan Crow who has come here to kill you and your fellow Grey Warden, but as you can see, I have failed.”  
“And that makes me very happy,” she replied sarcastically.  
“Well, I would have thought so. Being captured doesn’t help my cause at all.”  
Alistair snorted, choking back a laugh and Leliana smiled behind her hand. Rosalyn looked him square in the eye, “Too bad.” Zevran only nodded at this, smiling a dazzling smile. “So why tell me all this?”  
“I wasn’t paid for silence,”  
“And there’s no reason to believe anything you say,” she countered.  
Zevran nodded, “So true, my dear; in which case I have a proposition for you.”  
Alistair turned to Rosalyn, his eyes narrowing and his expression wary. Rosalyn nodded in his direction and continued, “Make it quick.”  
“I have failed to kill you so the Crows will no doubt end my miserable existence. However, I like living and you seem the type to keep the Crows away.”  
“You are assuming a lot here, you know.”  
“I am skilled at many things including being able to warn you if the Crows or any other group should try again.” He looked at Rosalyn with a dreamy look that said, “Let me take you,” making her blush and Alistair’s eyes narrow more at her and the elf.  
She was not completely convinced even if flattered. “Before you try again?”  
Zevran laughed, smiling even more at her, “You are a bold one.”  
“Why don’t you just try again later? I would.”  
“I was never given any choice in the matter, my dear. I prefer my chances with you and your charming companions.”  
Rosalyn looked at Sten then Alistair, who both gave her looks that said, “Kill him.” She turned back to Zevran, “Will you be loyal?”  
“Loyal enough to keep from dying by not killing you. Is that enough?” he asked.  
She shook her head, “You must think I’m stupid.”  
“Tough to kill, absolutely gorgeous, and not stupid at all. There are much worse things, my dear,” he explained.  
She nodded and continued, “I accept.”  
Alistair took her arm and guided her away from the others. “You must be kidding. Him? With us?”  
“He will be useful,” she persuaded.  
“For what? You see him, he has dark intentions and I would see him gone. I…I don’t like it,” he said, anger tingeing his voice.  
Rosalyn smiled up at Alistair; his intentions were perfectly clear. He was worried about her and only wanted her safe. She leaned closer to whisper, “Please don’t worry, and I think we could really use him. I’ll be careful.” She gave his arm a squeeze, eliciting a slight smile that disappeared when turned toward their new partner.  
Alistair nodded, placing his hand over hers and squeezing back. “You realize we just crossed the border from needy to desperate.”  
“Oh, we passed that a week ago, didn’t you notice?” she quipped unexpectedly. He smiled at that and chuckled softly, and she turned to Zevran, her eyes narrowing, “Cross us and die.”  
“You have my oath, dear lady.” He held up his hands, “Now, if you don’t mind?”  
Alistair cut his bonds and Sten helped him up. Their party had just become more interesting.

@@@@@

Zevran proved indispensable to the group on his first day out, fetching wood, cleaning game for meals, and even massaging Rosalyn’s shoulders when she complained of a cramp. Alistair’s opinion of the elf had not changed; he thought the man was too pretty. “I’ve seen that type before in Denerim, and they usually only have one talent to speak of,” he complained. Rosalyn looked sideways at him as he spoke, her eyes opening wider and her mouth dropping open just a bit before she caught it. Clearly there was a story there she needed to hear sometime. Despite Alistair’s complaining, Zevran remained, becoming a vital and dependable force in their little group.  
They approached Redcliffe on the eastern side, coming in on the high ground to be able to scout the town before they entered. About a mile from the gates, Alistair’s hand reached out and stopped Rosalyn from continuing. “Ummm…can we talk a moment?” he asked, noticing Zevran’s presence next to her. The elf had been her constant companion all day and was getting on Alistair’s nerves. “Alone?” he continued firmly, his eyes on his rival.  
“Would you mind going ahead and scouting the area around the town, Zevran? Meet us at the gates,” she requested, smiling sweetly at the assassin and getting a syrupy smile in return.  
“Of course, my dear,” he replied, taking her hand and raising it to his lips, his eyes never leaving Alistair’s face. “I will count the minutes.” With a bow he was off, Rosalyn watching as he walked away.  
Alistair watched the display with a mixture of anger and disgust, “Ugh! How can you possibly stand that man! He’s…..ugh!” Emotion got the better of him and he began to pace, his thoughts racing.  
Rosalyn smiled behind her hand at his obvious distress. Zevran was a bit much, she agreed, but she had been enjoying his attentions towards her and enjoying Alistair’s poorly disguised jealously even more. He had had her all to himself for so long. “He’s…well…he’s nice to me. I’m an elf, Alistair, the bottom of the food chain, remember? It’s nice to be treated well once in a while.”  
“I can be nice,” he countered, his emotions calming, “But I don’t have to be slurpy. Do you really like that?”  
She laughed then. His jealously was worse than she had thought; a new and exciting element to their relationship, so she calmed his fears. “Zev is an elf and so am I. There is some comfort in not being the only one, you know.” She stepped closer to him, leaning in a bit, “And no, I don’t like slurpy, but I do like a man who’s forward. It’s…fun sometimes.”  
Alistair took her message to heart and took her hand in his, squeezing it and reaching out with his senses towards her. She was telling the truth, he could tell, so he smiled a dazzling smile and slowly raised her hand to his lips, letting them brush her skin lightly. Rosalyn’s eyes went smoky as he watched her reaction, and he heard her sharp intake of breath. “So it is,” he whispered.  
Rosalyn’s mind wandered to many places, all involving Alistair and someplace soft and warm. She shook the thoughts off and stowed them for future reference, looking up at him and replying, “See?” in a soft, throaty voice that cracked a bit. His lips remained on her skin for a moment longer then pulled away, his eyes never leaving hers. “What did you want to talk about?” she asked, still distracted. He released her hand, causing her to feel a twinge of regret, and started. “I have something to tell you that I should have told you before,” he began. Rosalyn’s eyes opened at this and he continued, “I told you before that I was a bastard and was raised by the Arl?”  
“Yes, you said he took you in when your parents died,” she replied.  
He nodded, “What I didn’t tell you was my father was King Maric.”  
Rosalyn had thought she had heard all the surprises that he could spring on her, but this one made her want to sit down, fast and hard. “You…are a prince?” He nodded. “So…not just a regular bastard but a royal one?” He laughed out loud at her statement as Rosalyn turned bright red with embarrassment and turned away.  
His hand came out and stopped her, turning her back, “Don’t do that. It’s funny, I love it.” She smiled weakly and he went on, “I never told you because it’s a secret. No one knows except for a few people. I’m considered a threat to the throne so I was ‘put away.’ I never really thought about it much; it never benefitted me in any way. Those who know look down on me like I’m dirt or they coddle me, looking for favor.”  
She looked up at him, realizing much that she didn’t know about him. “I do understand that.”  
“I hoped you would, if anyone,” he admitted. “That’s why I was sent to the monastery, to get rid of me. It was safe and secure and a prison. When I first arrived there, I had an amulet of Andraste that was the only thing I had left of my mother’s. I was so angry that I threw it against the wall and it broke. I was so stupid.”  
“You were young,” she responded, understanding. She paused before continuing, “There wouldn’t be anything else you might be hiding? A wife, kids, millions stashed away somewhere?”  
Alistair laughed nervously, “No woman would have me, hence no kids, and last time I looked, I had about a sovereign and a half to my name. That’s it, just the prince thing.”  
Rosalyn looked up at him and smiled a smile he had never seen before and wanted to see more of, “It’s a little exciting, you know, knowing royalty,” she told him in a dreamy tone, causing him to take a step closer to her.  
“More exciting than knowing an assassin?” he asked her, looking down, the intensity showing deep in his eyes.  
“Much more,” she said, returning the gaze.  
“So now I can be the nobody you met once when you went to a war, hmm? The one who was too lucky to die?”  
“Oh, I think he’s luckier than he thinks he is,” she observed, turning and walking to the gates, Alistair watching the view.

Redcliffe

Rosalyn stopped at the gate; waiting for Alistair to catch up then the group entered the town together. Alistair looked around him, a puzzled then concerned look crossing his face. Sensing his worry, Rosalyn put her hand out to stop him, “What?” she asked.  
“I don’t know,” he replied, “Something’s…off….wrong. Where are the guards? And why don’t we hear the Chantry bell, it’s near noon.”  
“Perhaps the guards have left for their change,” she said.  
Alistair shook his head, “No. The guards change every four hours so they would have changed by now. Something is wrong here, Rosalyn.” He walked to the cliff’s edge and looked down at the town. There were no workmen, shoppers, craftsmen or anyone down at the square. “Look, its market day and the square is deserted. I don’t like this.”  
“What do you want to do?” she asked.  
Alistair turned, “Zevran, what did you see on your scout?”  
“Nothing. Cows, chickens, some dogs roaming around. No one else. Odd for a town this size,” he reported.  
“Damn odd.” He looked back down at the village below, “Zevran, take Sten and Morrigan and go around to the other side of the village. There is another gate there, behind the Chantry. We’ll enter here and you can meet us at the chantry. Check out the area and report to us.” Zevran nodded and he and Morrigan followed Sten as they made their way to the other side of town.  
Alistair looked at Rosalyn and Leliana, “Let’s wait a bit and let them get there. Then we’ll enter, casually. Watch for anything out of the ordinary for a little town.” The last he directed at Leliana, who nodded and walked to the cliff edge to keep watch. He looked at Rosalyn, “Sorry, I don’t mean to step on your authority. It’s just that you don’t know the town and having lived in the city all your life…well, even Sten calls you Kadan.”  
“‘Kadan’ only means that I’m worthy to be followed; a status that could change with the winds.” She paused, smiling at him, “I’m happy to follow you anywhere, Alistair. And I’m fine with you being in charge. We never said there was any one lead person, just the ‘Wardens.” He smiled down at her, making her glad she didn’t have to give orders. She liked him as the boss.  
“They are there,” said Leliana, pointing to the back gate. Alistair and Rosalyn joined her and they strolled into town, looking around for anyone who might be able to tell them what was happening. As they reached the junction where the road branched out to the castle and the town, they were met by a young man standing guard at the crossroads, hidden in the brush.  
“Are you here to help us?” he asked, excitedly.  
Alistair recognized the young man, “Tomas? Calm down and tell us what’s the matter.”  
Tomas took a deep breath and drank some water that Leliana gave him. He smiled weakly at her and she returned it warmly, “Go on,” she said.  
“Monsters attack us every night with no letting up. So many have died.” The man was clearly under too much stress and suffering from lack of sleep.  
“What kind of monsters? Darkspawn?” asked Alistair.  
Tomas shook his head, “I don’t know. You should talk to Bann Teagan. He’s here, helping us. I’ll take you.” Alistair looked over at Leliana, who nodded and took off in the direction of the back gate to find Zevran, Sten and Morrigan. He looked down at Rosalyn, who also nodded and they followed Tomas down the hill.  
As they passed through the village, they began to see what they could not up on the hill. There were bowmen and warriors concealed all over the area, keeping watch for anything out of the ordinary.  
They entered the chantry to find it crowded with people, most were young or old, sick or wounded. Tomas led them to the back of the room, where a man in chainmail was talking to a chantry sister. He looked to be in his thirties and definitely in charge.  
“I’ll see what I can do, sister. Please excuse me.” The man turned toward Tomas next, “Tomas, who are…Alistair? Maker’s breath! You’re alive!” He came forward and embraced Alistair and both men smiled.  
“Glad to see you’re well, uncle. I was hoping for a warmer reception in the village. Like old times,” he said.  
“As you can see, that’s not possible at the moment but I could scrounge up some ale for later, perhaps? What happened? We all thought you were dead with the other Wardens.”  
Alistair nodded, “No, fortunately we were sent elsewhere and missed that party.” He turned to Rosalyn, who had been watching the exchange with great interest. “Uncle, this is Rosalyn, a fellow Grey Warden…and a good friend.” Rosalyn smiled up at him at the last. “Rosalyn, this is Teagan Guerrin, Bann of Rainesfere, and Arl Eamon’s brother.”  
“How do you do dear lady, a pleasure, I’m sure.” Teagan looked at Alistair, who narrowed his eyes and quickly shook his head as Teagan took her hand in his, bowing over it.  
Rosalyn was speechless for a moment. “I’m very happy to meet you.” She paused a moment to let it sink in. “What has happened here, my lord?”  
“A few nights ago we were attacked by some force from the castle. We have tried to contact them, but there has been no word for days. As you can see, it has been most dire.” He waved his hand towards the people gathered around for shelter. “We have lost so many people; I don’t know how much longer we can last.”  
“Do you have many fighters?” asked Alistair.  
“Not now. So many have died or fled, we don’t have enough to put up an adequate defense now. The more who die, the more there are to attack us. The odds are overwhelming now.”  
“We will help you.”  
Alistair’s head turned quickly to look down at Rosalyn, surprised. She was looking up at Teagan with a determined look. He turned to his uncle, “Of course uncle, we are more than happy to help.”  
“Oh, that’s wonderful,” Teagan exclaimed. “Murdock is in charge in the square, and I’ve set Ser Perth to defending the crossroads. They will be able to help you best. I will lead a small group to defend the chantry in case it’s attacked. Maker watch over you, and thank you.” With the last, he winked at Rosalyn, inciting a groan from Alistair, who took her arm and led her away, heading for the doors.

@@@@@

“Your uncle?” A puzzled Rosalyn asked as they left the chantry. “I thought you had no family but your half-brother.”  
“Oh, uh…about that. He’s not really my uncle but I grew up calling him that. He was around quite a bit when I was growing up; he was in command of the Arl’s army then. When he was older, he inherited his title from an uncle and moved to Rainesfere. He was good to me, used to take me hunting and fishing sometimes.” His eyes became wistful as he remembered.  
“That sounds wonderful,” she replied. “My father is like that. He used to take us out of the city on long walks, sometimes overnight. He thought we needed the outings to teach us about the world outside the Alienage. He was right.”  
Alistair smiled down at her. She had never spoken about her childhood. “Did you have fun?”  
Rosalyn laughed, “Soris and I loved it but Shianni hated it as she grew up. She would rather stay cooped up with a good book or work on the ledgers for the hahren. She does the accounting for his office. We used to love going out so we could practice the bow. It was hard to do at home.”  
“Except for the rats?”  
“Except for the rats. Although that was fun too.”  
“You’ll have to show me sometime,” he told her, stepping closer and looking down at her intently.  
She suddenly became very unsure of herself and blushed, making him smile even more, “Only if you show me something from your childhood. Agreed?”  
“Done,” he agreed. “Shall we go see Murdock?”  
“Lead on, my prince,” she teased as he started down the steps.  
“Stop that,” he replied, not turning around as he walked on. Rosalyn laughed and followed.  
A talk with Murdock revealed a lack of dependable labor to repair weapons and armor as well as few citizens who needed to be persuaded to help with the defense of the village. Alistair took Leliana and Sten with him to visit an uncooperative blacksmith while Rosalyn took Morrigan and Zevran to visit a trader named Dwyn and the local tavern to see if there were others who could help. They agreed to meet with Murdock to report their success when they had finished. With Zevran’s encouraging, she walked up to the tavern first.  
Several men were sitting at the bar and tables, drinking and talking when they entered the public room. Many of them recognized her Warden tunic and hailed her, thanking her for her help and offering her a drink. One of the men complained that Lloyd wouldn’t let them have free ale as they had fought to defend him from the monsters. Rosalyn was incensed that he wouldn’t pay the poor men at least a few ales for all the fighting and dying they were doing and promised to look into it.  
The owner, Lloyd, was a nice enough man; even though the fact she was an elf seemed to irk him a little. The fact she and Zevran were armed to the teeth seemed to convince him of their sincerity and he listened patiently to their proposition; he could provide the men with ale in return for their service in keeping his tavern from being burnt to the ground and him from being killed.  
“It’s a fair proposition, don’t you think?” she asked him slyly, “I mean, you are a businessman, aren’t you?”  
Lloyd looked suspiciously at the three of them, “Well…I suppose for today it would be all right. But only if they agree to help me protect my business.”  
“Done,” she said. After a trip to the table to talk to the men, they were also agreeable to the proposition and the bargain was struck and with it, she gained a half dozen men who would otherwise not have fought at all. Rosalyn received several offers for a drink and one marriage proposal. She took a rain check on the drinks and sweetly turned down the proposal, thanking the men then left for Dwyn’s house.  
Zevran was curious as to where she learned her negotiation skills. “You managed to convince a room full of men to fight for the village without a bribe or a weapon. You are a most amazing woman, my darling Warden.” He took her hand and raised it to his lips, lightly running his tongue over her skin as he kissed her hand. She shivered and he smiled. “Most amazing,” he repeated.  
Rosalyn looked up and noticed Alistair approaching them, a scowl on his face. “Zevran, I thank you for the compliment but I…well, I have to go talk to Dwyn.” She pulled her hand away a little too forcefully and walked down the hill, Morrigan following, leaving Alistair and Zevran to glower at each other without her.

@@@@@

Rosalyn stopped at the bottom of the hill and looked up at her fellow Warden. He was exchanging words with Zevran to the amusement of Leliana and disgust of Sten. She wondered what they were saying but decided that she would leave it for now. Sten looked down at her and she nodded, motioning him to come too. He headed towards her.  
“What is that all about or do I want to know,” she asked the big Qunari.  
“Apparently they are discussing how one should treat a female Grey Warden. I do not see the problem, myself. You are a leader; they should treat you as one, not as an object of enjoyment for them,” he said.  
“Object of enjoyment? What do you mean, Sten?” she asked, confused.  
Sten paused, seeking the words he needed then continued, “They see you as an object to be enjoyed like the loose women and men you might find in a seedy tavern. I do not approve of their reasoning and do not understand their logic.”  
Rosalyn blushed with embarrassment at his words and Morrigan burst out in gales of laughter. “Uhhhh…thank you Sten, I’ll speak to them about that.” She walked on down the hill to the square listening to Morrigan laugh all the way.  
They found Dwyn’s house and were joined by Alistair and Zevran, who had run to catch up with them. Rosalyn was too embarrassed to look at them so she knocked on the door. There was no answer so she called out, “Anyone in there?” When she heard nothing she resorted to more devious means, to Alistair’s surprise, and deftly picked the lock on the door.  
“Where did you learn to do that?” he asked.  
“I didn’t always just collect money and deliver goods for the smugglers,” she answered and left it at that. She opened the door slowly, her daggers at the ready.  
“Fine, just when I had that door jammed well too,” raised a voice from inside. Rosalyn looked in and saw three men, two humans and a dwarf, standing in the room, heavily armed.  
She sheaved her daggers and opened her hands so they could see them, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you but I thought the house was empty. We were checking for anyone who might need help.”  
“We’re fine here and your apology is accepted. I’m Dwyn,” was the reply.  
“I’m Rosalyn. Why aren’t you out helping defend the village?”  
“They never did anything for me,” Dwyn declared.  
“Can I change your mind?” she asked him, a seductive look in her eyes.  
The dwarf stepped forward and looked her up and down approvingly, “Maybe, but I don’t think a night with you will be enough for this, even though it sounds fine.”  
Rosalyn smiled and retorted, “You sure? I could…pay you…” She ran her hand through Dwyn’s hair and down his cheek, eliciting a smile from the dwarf.  
“Pay would be nice, but I’ll have to pass on the rest. You understand.”  
“Too bad. It might have been fun. How about fifty silver?” she purred at him.  
“Sounds fair. We’ll see you on the square, my dear,” Dwyn said, smiling up at her. She opened her purse and presented him with his money.  
Rosalyn shook his hand to seal the deal, “I look forward to it.” She turned and left the house, companions in tow.  
As she walked back to talk to Murdock, Alistair ran up and grabbed her arm. “You weren’t really going to sleep with him. Were you?” His normally smiling face was registering a look that hovered between distaste and horror.  
Looking up at him she made sure he understood her clearly and that the others did to, “No, I didn’t have to. There are two things dwarves love in this world, Alistair, money and the joy of a good bargain. Dwyn just got both and I’m only out fifty silver. He would have charged us two sovereigns otherwise.”  
“So you were bluffing?” he asked.  
She shook her head, “I was bargaining. Everyone has a price, Alistair, even you. I gave him what he wanted. The fact that I have to offer more is a technicality.” She turned and walked on to the square, turning back unexpectedly, “Not bad for a loose woman, hmmm?” With that she continued on, leaving him behind.

@@@@@

After talking with Murdock, the group went up the hill to see Ser Perth, who turned out to be a handsome knight with a dazzling smile and manner. He was happy to assist her with the defense plans, offering to show her personally where he had stationed his men. Rosalyn walked with him, Alistair following, offering suggestions, admiring his work and strengths. Alistair interjected a question or two himself as they talked, keeping a hand on the conversation. When the knight asked for ‘holy protection’ for his men, she put Leliana on the task. Ser Perth thanked her graciously, taking her hand and bowing over it. Rosalyn gave him a warm smile and took her leave, heading down the hill to the village square to see Murdock once more.  
As she walked along, she was conscious of Alistair following her, but hanging back slightly and giving her space. She hadn’t been very kind to him earlier but neither had he to her; not after all they had exchanged. She was hurt that he might think of her as just a loose tavern girl. She had never been one, even though she had had the chance more times than she could count. Dallan had never thought of her that way, even though he was less than truthful about himself.  
She had taken up with Dallan when he had recruited her for the smugglers, and he had been her first lover. He was exciting and knowledgeable about how to please a woman and she had reaped the benefits, spending hours in his bed. When she had found out he had others besides her; others who could take care of needs she couldn’t fulfill, she still continued to see him even though she knew it would end in heartbreak. Rosalyn had been foolish then and wouldn’t be again. When Dallan had married a woman from Amaranthine the year before, it had broken Rosalyn’s heart. Marriage to Nelaros would have been a clean start for her and she would make sure she had that start, Alistair be damned.  
Murdock was more than pleased they had solved the problems he had given them. He offered them shelter for the afternoon if they were interested. Morrigan left with Sten and Zevran to scout the castle, while two women from the village offered Leliana and Rosalyn a place to rest and a meal. Alistair looked a bit lost as she took off with Leliana but was soon called to the chantry to spend time with Teagan. He walked away slowly, waiting to see if he could get some time alone with Rosalyn, but she quickly disappeared, leaving him standing. He retreated to the chantry, shaking his head and mumbling something about women to the amusement of several of the militia.  
Three hours later, Rosalyn found herself walking to the chantry to meet her companions when she came upon a curious sight. On the steps of the chantry sat Alistair, surrounded by a dozen children. He was regaling them with the tale of Garahel, the Dalish elf who had defeated the Archdemon four hundred years before. They were completely enthralled.  
She stood in the shadows watching and listening to him, wondering what made a man like him. He had had a childhood that in many ways was worse than her own had been, yet he was kind and generous to all. In Lothering he had opened his purse and taken out a few silvers and put it in his pocket, giving the rest to the Revered Mother for the care of the refugees. She found out later it was all he had. Even in the midst of suffering and fear, he found time to tell a story to some children. He was a most unusual man by any standard.  
Alistair finished his story and bid the children goodbye, telling them to get to the chantry before darkness came. They scattered quickly and he looked up and out over the square, “You can come out; I know you’re there, Rosalyn.”  
She walked out from the shadows, coming to stand in front of him, “I was hoping you were too busy to notice.”  
He turned to look at her, scooting over on the bench to make room for to sit beside him. “You’re angry with me.”  
“A little,” she said, sitting down.  
“I could have been more diplomatic back a Dwyn’s. I misjudged you. It’s something I seem to do a lot lately,” he turned to her adding, “I am very sorry.”  
Rosalyn looked at him closely; she saw the lines of care around his eyes that weren’t there before. He’d lost a lot in the last weeks, more than she knew plainly. She spoke softly, “You were concerned for me. You have been since I’ve known you. I …well…it’s just that no one ever looked out for me before. I really don’t know what to think about it all.”  
“What about your father? Didn’t he?”  
“Of course, but in the alienage it’s different. Everyone looks after everyone else. We have to. I was always keeping Soris or Shianni out of trouble and making sure my father had nothing to worry about.”  
Alistair looked back out over the square, “I really don’t mind, you know…looking after you. It’s kind of nice sometimes.”  
She looked over at him, “It is nice,” she admitted, smiling at him. “I should probably tell you that there are other things you will not like about me. You should know now, I’m no saint, Alistair.”  
He turned back to her, “Neither am I Rosalyn. I never have been.” He watched her as she looked out over the square at the militia as they prepared for the night’s battle. Suddenly he stood up and held out his hand, “Come and walk with me.”  
Rosalyn looked at the hand he offered, contemplating the implications, finally she took off her gloves and stuffed them into her belt, “Okay,” she said and took his hand.  
Together they walked down the chantry steps and turned to walk towards the lake. As they walked, Rosalyn realized Alistair had not let go of her hand. She smiled a little and kept going, enjoying the beautiful day and the feel of his hand in hers.  
They walked to the dock where normally the fishing boats would be moored, but there were none to be seen as they had been taken as a means of escape or had been broken up to use as firewood or barricades. Alistair stopped at the edge of the dock and looked up at the castle, so quiet and menacing. Rosalyn watched him as he looked, feeling his worry and fear for the people there. She squeezed his hand and he turned to look at her, his face suddenly changing, becoming softer but still intense. His free hand came up and brushed a stray lock of hair back from her face, tracing a line down her cheek until he held her cheek in his hand. Alistair’s eyes never left hers, looking deep into them, searching for something. She sighed and leaned into his hand, and heard his intake of breath.  
Slowly he leaned in, his lips brushing hers, uncertain and testing, waiting for her response. Rosalyn’s lips began to press back, softly, letting him know she wanted him to continue. He brought her hand up to his heart, gripping it tightly in his as he slowly deepened the kiss, becoming bolder and more intense. Time stood still for them.  
They heard the sound of a man clearing his throat nearby, and they reluctantly parted, resting their foreheads against each other for a moment before turning to look at the intruder.  
“Forgive me; I had not wanted to interrupt…” said Zevran. “The Bann desires to see you both as soon as you are able.” He leered at the both of them, especially at Rosalyn, who felt him undressing her with his eyes. She blushed at the attention, causing Alistair to move his body just enough so that he was between them.  
“Thank you, Zevran. We’ll see him at once,” he answered curtly, his body language challenging the elf to say more.  
Zevran knew an exit when he saw one, “As you wish,” he replied, turning and heading back to the chantry, laughing to himself.  
Alistair’s eyes showed his anger at the elf’s arrogance and his attentions towards Rosalyn. He turned around to see she was smiling up at him, a pleased and happy look on her face. She raised her hand up to his cheek and lightly ran her fingers down, caressing his skin. He closed his eyes and felt the anger release. She smiled and he took her in his arms, holding her until all the anger was gone. “We should go, I suppose,” he said into her hair. She nodded and their lips met in a promise of the future. Turning, Alistair took her hand as they walked to the chantry together.

@@@@@

All preparations for battle had been taken care of so the companions headed to the village square to make their stand. Bowmen were stationed at high points on top of buildings and roofs while warriors were assembled in the square and at the top of the hill to defend on foot. Rosalyn and Alistair informed Teagan that they were as ready as they could be.  
Just after dark, an eerie silence came over the town. Sten looked down at Leliana and Zevran, his eyes full of worry. Leliana moved closer to the big Qunari in an attempt to seek protection from the unknown, praying quietly to herself. No one knew what was coming but everyone felt its presence. Morrigan shuddered and began mumbling a curse, while Zevran pulled his daggers, nervously checking their sharpness. Alistair moved closer to Rosalyn and put his hand around her shoulders and squeezed, causing her to jump. She looked up and smiled slightly but could see the anxiety in his eyes. Being a Warden wasn’t helping them tonight.  
Suddenly a cry went up from the top of the chantry, “They’re coming!”  
Everyone sprang into action with Alistair, Rosalyn, Sten and Zevran heading to the cliff to assist the defense of the cross roads and Morrigan and Leliana staying in the square to coordinate the defense of the chantry and assist Teagan and Murdock.  
At the top of the hill, Ser Perth’s men had dug a trench about six inches deep and filled it with oil they had found in the village store. Once the creatures turned towards the windmill, Rosalyn fired a flaming arrow to light the oil and create a wall of fire to divert the walking dead through a narrow passage, enabling the archers to pick them off. Those who made it through the gauntlet were dealt with by the warriors. It stopped many from entering the village.  
As the fight began to die at the top of the cliff, a messenger arrived from Leliana begging for help for the square. The dead creatures had discovered an alternate way into the village and were streaming in, overwhelming the small force gathered there. Rosalyn told Ser Perth to keep his men attacking the creatures in the gauntlet then headed with Alistair and the others to the square.  
The square was full of the creatures as they tried to get to the chantry and its inhabitants. Leliana and Morrigan stood on the steps, firing all they had at them but they kept coming. It was a losing battle for the force.  
Alistair looked down at Rosalyn, “Get to the steps and fire all you have. Let’s see how you can kill the rats!” She looked up and nodded, seeing him smile. He took her arm, leaned in to her and said, “You’d better not get hurt. Now get going recruit!”  
“I won’t…boss,” she replied, smiling up at him before turning and running off to her place, Alistair watched her as she ran.  
He shook off the image of her and headed with Sten and Zevran to bolster the ground troops, who were finding it rough going. He split the forces in half, each group defending an opening in the barricade. Rosalyn, Leliana and Morrigan stayed on the chantry steps and reigned arrows and magic.  
With the companions’ help, the tide turned in their favor and the creatures were soon beaten back to the lake. From there it was short work for Morrigan and the bowmen to pick them off one by one. There were still a few hours until dawn so they continued to patrol and worked their way to the castle gates before turning back to the village. With the gates locked from the inside they would not be able to reach anyone who might still be alive inside.  
At dawn the happy defenders gathered at the chantry steps where the companions were honored for their hard work and the dead were mourned. Rosalyn was presented a gift of a helmet that had belonged to Teagan’s great uncle, a famous warrior. She was most honored by the gesture.  
Teagan thanked them again and asked that the companions meet him at the windmill at the top of the hill. Alistair looked at his uncle curiously and agreed to be there as soon as they had cleaned up and eaten. Teagan agreed and had some of the village women provide them with water to wash and some food.  
As Teagan departed and the crowd dispersed, Alistair looked down at Rosalyn as she watched the people return to their work. Satisfied they could be alone; he took her hand and led her to the far side of the chantry next to the wall. Once there, he took her in his arms and kissed her with all the pent up frustration, worry and relief he had inside him. Rosalyn returned the kiss with equal measure. They parted to catch their breath, their lips still touching. “I was so afraid for you. I thought several times you were….” He stopped; thinking about what could have happened.  
“It felt like we were in the Tower of Ishal again. Without the hope of any rescue,” she replied, clinging to him as she shook.  
Alistair brought his hand to her face, holding it as if it were a delicate piece of art, “I don’t think I could stand to lose you too. Not after all the others.” His mouth met hers again as if to burn the thought into her flesh. When he released her, he said half-heartedly, “We should go meet Teagan.”  
“Yes,” she agreed unwillingly. Alistair nodded and they walked to the top of the hill to meet with Teagan.  
They found the Bann at the cliff’s edge watching the castle that had been his home. “It’s so quiet you’d think there was no one there.” He turned to Rosalyn and Alistair, “I have a plan. The castle can be entered through a secret passage known only to my family.”  
Rosalyn was impressed with his revelation, “Convenient.”  
“I should have gone in and tried to see what I could do but I could not leave the villagers to defend for themselves,” he admitted.  
“You did what you thought you had to do, uncle. No one will question your choice,” Alistair told him. “I would have done the same.”  
“Thank you, Alistair. It means much coming from you. But if only I…Maker’s breath!” he exclaimed, looking up the road.  
A well-dressed middle aged woman accompanied by a guard was running towards them from the direction of the castle. She was slim and attractive, wearing her hair in the Orlesian style on top of her head. Alistair turned away for a moment and groaned causing Rosalyn to look at him, her curiosity piqued.  
“Teagan!” she cried, “Thank the Maker you are here!” She threw herself into Teagan’s arms while Alistair rolled his eyes.  
“Isolde, what are you doing here?” he asked.  
“I came for you, Teagan. You must come back with me. Connor has….has gone mad, I fear. I need you to help me with him. Please, Teagan, you must come with me!” She threw herself back into Teagan’s arms, sobbing loudly.  
“Why does Teagan have to come with you?” asked Rosalyn, her eyes narrowed at the woman’s pretense.  
“Who are you to talk to me in such a way?” she demanded.  
Alistair stepped forward and sighed loudly, “Please my lady, we must know more.”  
“Alistair? What are you doing here?” she snapped.  
Teagan jumped in, “They are Grey Wardens, Isolde. The village and I owe them our lives.”  
Isolde let the comment slide, turning to Teagan, “You must come with me, Teagan. Connor will listen to you, his favorite uncle. Please!” she pleaded.  
Rosalyn looked at Alistair who shrugged his shoulders, passing the decision to her. It was clearly something he was not comfortable dealing with. “We have to make a decision,” she said.  
Teagan make his decision, “I will go with her and try to see what I can do there. If I can, I will open the gates for you and Ser Perth’s men to enter and retake the castle.”  
“And what of us?” Rosalyn asked.  
Teagan pulled off his ring and handed it to her. “Here is my signet ring. It will open the trap door in the mill that leads to the passage and the door at the end. The passage comes up through the dungeon and will take you to the chapel.” He turned to look at the castle then at Isolde, who had gone to wait by the bridge. “Eamon is the priority here. You must see to his safety.”  
“We will save you all,” she told him.  
“You are a good woman,” he said, taking her hand and kissing it. “Maker watch over you.” With that he joined Isolde and they left for the castle leaving them behind.

Redcliffe Castle

Alistair suggested they take Zevran and Leliana with them as there was a need for stealth. They entered the passage quietly, making their way through the tunnel under the lake. The way was difficult, muddy and damp and all four were soaked to the skin by the time they reached the heavily fortified door that led to the dungeon. Rosalyn inserted Teagan’s ring into the slot and Alistair turned the handle, calling upon Zevran to help push it open. They entered the dark depths of the dungeon, weapons at the ready.  
At the end of the long row of cells, they came upon a group of walking dead terrorizing a young mage locked in the cell. The group took care of the creatures quickly, and Rosalyn asked the mage why he was locked up.  
“Lady Isolde had me imprisoned because…well, I poisoned the Arl,” he replied.  
Alistair was indignant, “You poisoned him! Why?”  
Jowan was nervous at Alistair’s outburst, “I was instructed to by Teyrn Loghain. He discovered I was a blood mage and sent me here to tutor the Arl’s son. I could buy my freedom with this one deed.”  
Rosalyn looked at Alistair, both of them thinking the same thing, “Why did the Arlessa need you to tutor her son?”  
Jowan ran his hands through his hair and paced back and forth, “Connor is a mage, and needed to be taught how to handle himself and his power. I never intended for any of this to happen! I only poisoned the Arl, not summoned all this! I want to do something to help.”  
Rosalyn looked at Alistair, gauging his feelings. He was showing anger but apprehension and some pity. She raised her eyebrows and he nodded. “Do you truly wish to redeem yourself or is this a ploy to get out?”  
Jowan opened his hands, “I truly wish to help. I swear. You may kill me if I break the oath.”  
Rosalyn looked at Alistair, who reached forward and reluctantly unlocked the cell, allowing the mage his freedom. “You can follow us,” he said. Jowan nodded but insisted he would stay back from them and allow them to lead the way.  
Alistair was familiar with the way now that they were in the castle. He led them to a set of stairs at the end of the next section of cells. They climbed slowly with Zevran in the lead, opening the door and looking into the hall. “No one here,” he reported and they entered the hallway.  
“We need to head down that hall and through the kitchens to the great hall,” Alistair whispered, pointing to a door in the middle of the hallway.  
The group hadn’t gotten ten feet down the hallway before they were attacked by a group of corpses, raging at them from the chapel. They dispatched the group quickly only to have Jowan open the chapel door and disappear. The sound of fire and ice spells was heard shortly after as he made his way through the big room. Alistair shook his head at the mage and led them down hallway leaving Jowan to fend for himself.  
Entering the kitchen was equally as hazardous as they faced more corpses and some hungry Mabari hounds; finishing them off as quickly as they could. Exiting the room, they found themselves in another hallway, and Alistair led them through another door to the cellar where they located the outer door to the bailey. Looking down at Rosalyn, he gave her a task, “When we get to the bailey, Zevran, Leliana and I will cover you while you run to the gate and pull the lever.” She nodded and the group started to move up the stairs, but Alistair stopped her before she could go farther. “Run fast,” he whispered, “I’m not ready to lose you yet.” She looked up and smiled, boldly placing a kiss on his cheek before taking off for the gate.  
She took off at a dead run, finding herself chased by corpses. She reached the lever, jumped and pulled, putting her weight into the draw. The gate rose about a foot and stopped, allowing Ser Perth to crawl under the gate and pull on the lever with her, raising it enough. The Redcliffe knights and guards streamed through, attacking the creatures at will. Rosalyn ran to Alistair’s side and began to fight, taking out as many as she could with her bow.  
At last the bailey was clear and they were able to catch their breath. Alistair put his arms around Rosalyn and hugged her. “I thought you’d never get that gate up,” he teased.  
“I thought I wouldn’t either. Ser Perth had to climb under and help. I was too light!” She laughed at her helplessness and he joined in.  
“I owe you then,” he said.  
Rosalyn looked up at him, his eyes were shining bright as he looked at her and she blushed at his regard. “I’ll have to think on that,” she replied.  
“I hope so,” he countered softly.  
Ser Perth told them his men were ready and together they entered the castle. They weren’t prepared for what was they found.

@@@@@

With Ser Perth’s help, the party entered the main hall. The Arlessa was waiting for them, with her son, Connor, standing on the dais at the back of the hall. Alistair and Rosalyn, along with Ser Perth led the way to greet them.  
“So these are the ones who defeated my soldiers? What is that staring at me? I can’t quite see it.” The voice was not that of a boy but of something unworldly and evil. Rosalyn suddenly chilled as she watched it.  
Isolde was aware of their apprehension and spoke out to her son, “This is an elf, Connor. We have them here at the castle.”  
“Oh yes! I had their ears cut off and fed to the hounds. Shall I send it to the kennels, Mother?”  
Rosalyn’s eyes grew wider and she instinctively took a step back towards Alistair. He reached out his hand and took hers, squeezing it.  
Bann Teagan laughed out loud at her reaction causing Connor to look crossly at him, “Quiet Uncle!” He turned toward Rosalyn, who had regained her composure and stepped forward. “What have you come here for?”  
She raised her chin, looking him in the eye, “I came here to stop you.”  
The boy laughed a maniacal laugh that chilled her to the bone. “I’m not finished playing! I crave excitement! You spoiled my sport and now you will repay me!” he yelled.  
Rosalyn addressed the Arlessa directly, “So HE is the evil you spoke of.”  
Isolde began to cry, “Connor didn’t mean to do all this. It’s the mage’s fault…he started it all.”  
Connor’s eye grew narrow as he regarded Rosalyn, “It was a fair deal!” As he ran from the room, a glow began to emanate from Bann Teagan and the guards that surrounded them. They raised their swords and attacked the group, forcing them to fight back. After a heated battle, the guards were dead or wounded and Teagan was knocked unconscious.  
Alistair revived his uncle, who was unharmed except for a bump on his head.  
“Teagan! I would never have forgiven myself if you had died. I am a fool!” cried the Arlessa.  
Rosalyn had had enough of the poor mother routine for now, “You knew about this all along.”  
“I didn’t tell you because I hoped you would help us. He isn’t always like this; the real Connor breaks through. Please protect him!” she pleaded.  
“What are the options?” asked Rosalyn.  
Alistair shook his head sadly, “There is only one sure way to deal with a possession such as this, and I do not want to suggest it.”  
Leliana was incensed, “We can’t be considering this! He’s just a boy!”  
“The demon in Connor needs to be destroyed. Killing him is the easy way but a mage could confront the demon in the Fade and not hurt Connor himself.” Jowan had shown himself.  
The Arlessa was incensed at the mage’s appearance but grasped at the hope he gave, “Jowan? Can you really kill the demon without hurting my boy?”  
Jowan went on, “I cannot. But I can enable another mage to enter and do it. It normally takes several mages and lyrium…but I have blood magic. I can take the life force of someone and use it to power the ritual. Someone would have to die.”  
Rosalyn shook her head to the relief of many, “Blood magic is not an option. Is there no other way?”  
“We can find mages and lyrium at the Circle of Magi,” Alistair added. “It’s only a day’s journey away.”  
She looked at Alistair and could tell that was what he wanted. “Let’s go then,” she said and turned back to Teagan, “Can you keep him under control?”  
“I will keep Jowan here to help. Go quickly,” Teagan said.  
“We will make a check to see that the castle is secure first,” said Alistair and they spent the next two hours searching in groups for survivors and killing the last of the corpses.  
When they were satisfied that the castle was safe, Alistair led the way to the gate and back to the village to collect the others. It was time to travel fast.

The Road to Kinloch Hold

Rosalyn decided they needed to move fast so she asked Sten to stay behind and assist Teagan in putting the castle to rights and helping recruit and train soldiers for the coming war. Morrigan had no desire to visit the Tower so she remained to help Jowan with Connor and to assist with Eamon’s care when she could. Leliana and Zevran would accompany them to Kinloch Hold to beg help from the mages.  
Alistair was strangely quiet on the road. They had chosen not to borrow horses as Rosalyn didn’t ride and had an admitted fear of them. “I try to stay away from creatures that might just be smarter than I am,” she told him, laughing. He smiled at her admission but not much else.  
The road was not well traveled and they made good time. Four miles up the lake they found a dock and were able to pay a local merchant to take them to the tower, shortening their trip by a few hours. It also gave the four of them a chance to rest from their long ordeal at Redcliffe.  
Zevran and Leliana curled up on their bedrolls and slept while Rosalyn sat in the shade of the mast eating. Alistair sat on a crate in the front of the boat, sharpening his sword, looking out over the water. She watched him, closing her eyes and reaching out with her senses towards him. There was worry, anxiety and disappointment there, along with grief; a combination she had not expected to find considering how well he had handled himself in the last days.  
She kept probing him until finally he raised his head and without turning, sighed and said, “Stop that.”  
Rosalyn went to him, sitting down on the deck next to him. “Good thing I’m not a Darkspawn. You took way too long to notice.” She looked up at him and saw he wasn’t smiling. Sobering her mood, she spoke again, quietly, “You knew many of them, didn’t you.”  
“Yes,” he answered. “Too many of them.”  
She hesitated in her reply, realizing that he was facing a great loss for the first time. His parents were gone before he was old enough to know them and he had never been close enough to anyone else but Duncan to feel that loss before. Rosalyn had always had family around her, when she lost one there was pain but Alistair had never had family like that. The pain for him was real and cut deeper than he knew how to deal with.  
“You’ve never lost anyone like this before, have you?” she asked.  
“No. My parents, I guess. But I had only met my father once or twice and never knew who he was when I did. I don’t even remember my mother; I was so young when she died. What do you do to get through it?” he asked.  
“I remember the good times I had with them and that someday I will see them again, when I go to be with Shartan and the old ones at the Maker’s side. Eventually the hurt dulls and I can go on.”  
He turned to look at her, “Do you really believe that?”  
“Yes. Faith sustains us, Alistair. You don’t have to be religious to understand that. Believe and it will be so. They are waiting for us,” she replied. “Duncan too,” she added. She reached out and took his hand in hers and squeezed.  
He looked into her eyes then and smiled his smile, “What did I do to deserve you?” he asked, totally amazed.  
“Easy. You drank Darkspawn blood and went to war. Simple as that,” she answered.  
Alistair nodded, knowingly. He reached down, grabbed her shoulders and pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly. When he drew back, his hand came up and brushed the hair from her face and tucked it behind her ear. “I’d do it all over again,” he whispered, kissing her.

The Circle of Magi

Just when they thought they might have a hand on everything, it all went horribly wrong.  
Rosalyn downed another healing potion as she caught her breath. They had battled at least a dozen enthralled or possessed mages and Templars in that last battle and were nearly exhausted. She looked over at Alistair who had loosened the straps of his breastplate in order to staunch a wound. He looked up and saw the worried look she was giving him and smiled, shaking his head. Rosalyn smiled weakly back, but trusted his judgment. They had picked up a mage healer to join them not long after entering the tower. Wynne was a striking middle aged woman with a formidable countenance who could hold her own as healer or fighter and they all had to admit she was more than just a good asset to the group.  
“You need to rest that for a while or it may open up again,” Wynne said, tying the last binding on Alistair’s bandage. “Does anyone else need healing?” she asked. When there were no takers, she found a spot in the corner of the storage room and tried to rest herself.  
Rosalyn went to the door and looked out, watching for Zevran to return. She had sent him out to scout the area for any other threats while they secured the room for a much needed break. Leliana had returned to the main hall to report their progress to the Templars. There was still no sign of him so she shut the door tightly.  
She looked to Alistair, sitting with his back against the wall and his eyes closed. He worried her. Ever since they had entered the tower he had fought like it was his last battle, taking point each time they set out and jumping into the middle of every skirmish they fought. It was almost as if he had a death wish. Rosalyn sat down next to him and drew him down so his head rested in her lap. She stroked his hair and he let out a sigh and began to relax. “Why are you doing this?” she asked quietly.  
Alistair sighed again and opened his eyes to look up at her. “I want to get this done quickly so we can get back.”  
“So you think killing yourself will make it happen faster?“  
“It wasn’t my intention.”  
“Then stop. We have to work together to finish this, you know that. Killing yourself makes nothing better, only worse. I…I need you to stay with me,” she declared, her eyes tearing.  
He turned his head and looked up at her, pulled his gauntlet off and ran his hand along her cheek. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think. I want so much to be able to end this, to make everything better for my home and what’s left. You can understand that, can’t you?”  
“It won’t bring anyone back, Alistair. I know; I’ve tried. That’s how I got here, remember? It’s together or not at all, okay?  
“Together then. Now I’ll take Wynne’s advice and rest. Stay with me?” he asked.  
Rosalyn nodded and ran her fingers through his hair again. He relaxed against her and took her hand in his, closing his eyes and smiling. She smiled at his comfort but her heart was disquiet. She knew it would not be the last time they had this talk.

@@@@@

“There you are. I was beginning to think you’d be asleep forever.” Alistair’s voice was like silk running over her skin, soft and sensual and Rosalyn wanted nothing more than for him to take her in his arms and make her his own, over and over until they were spent. His dark blond hair glowed in the light and his blue eyes shone with an ethereal light that drew her in. She went to him when he called her, wrapping her arms around him as he planted soft kisses on her face and throat. “Come with me, Rosalyn. Let me give you what you need,” he whispered. His hands roamed over her and she moaned with desire and ecstasy at his touch. He was everything she wanted. “Say yes, love, and you can stay with me forever.”  
The vision changed to a garden full of flowers, fragrant and bright. Alistair took her down to the grass, his hands lightly running over her body and she realized they were naked. She gasped as he entered her and rose up to meet him as he stroked her over and over. The sensations were beyond anything she had ever experienced and she wanted more and more. Her want and need grew as she heard him say, “Say yes, my love. Say you want this…”  
Rosalyn awoke with a jump, a cramp in her neck and confusion in her mind. Alistair still slept; his head on her lap. She remembered the dream and scooted away from him as quickly as she could. He let out a groan of discomfort but settled back down, his head resting on the floor where she had been. It had been a dream but like no dream she had ever experienced; it was too real and too vivid. The Templars were right, evil stalked this place and it was stalking her. Were the others affected as well?  
She stretched, wondering how long she had been asleep. Wynne still sat in the corner, dozing, her staff lying across her lap in preparation for any trouble that might show itself. Rosalyn looked up to see Zevran standing at the door, keeping watch outside. He turned when he heard her and smiled. “Better?” he asked.  
“Not really,” she answered, standing to stretch then walking over to where he was. “See anything?”  
Zevran shook his head, “We seem to have found a secure place for now. We should get moving again soon, though. It will not remain so for long and I am…uncomfortable here. Evil stalks these halls like nothing I have ever imagined. It is a place even the Maker has abandoned.”  
Rosalyn remembered her dream and nodded, “We should wake the others, then.” She turned to walk back when she felt a hand on her arm.  
Zevran’s eyes were dark as he gazed at her, a look she was too familiar with, desirable and dangerous. He pulled her to him and brought his lips to hers, as if he were seeking an answer to a question. She opened her lips and took him in, tasting and probing him with her own lips and tongue. He sighed then and slowly pulled back, looking down on her, “I…I’m…” he started.  
“I know,” she finished. “It’s this place. We can’t let it get to us, Zevran. Evil is here and they want this from us. We must resist, regardless of what we might really feel.”  
Zevran nodded and turned back to the door. Without looking back, he spoke, “I want you Rosalyn. That will not change when we leave here.”  
She stopped and turned to look at him again. He was elven, like her. He understood what it was to be elven, what it meant. The connection was there long before they were even born and it drew her to him. “I know,” she replied. “But we have a job to do.” He nodded as she turned to wake the others, not noticing Alistair’s blue eyes, shining, watching them.

@@@@@

“Why do you fight? You deserve more…You deserve a rest. The world will go on without you….” The sloth demon’s words sounded so wonderful to Rosalyn, warm and happy, a chance to be content at last. She closed her eyes and took what he offered, peace washing over her tired body.  
“Ahhh. There you are, my dear. Am I disturbing you?” Duncan slipped into the bed, warm and welcoming, taking her into his arms and claiming her mouth. “You’ve been at Weisshaupt for a while now. I’ve missed you so. Is it what you expected?” he asked her.  
“I...I was asleep. Did you need something?” she asked, confused.  
“You,” he replied as he entered her.  
Rosalyn rose to meet him, crying out with the pleasure it gave her to have him again. He was everything she remembered and more, but something was different. He knew her too well and they had not been together long enough for that. “Duncan? Why are we here? Shouldn’t we be fighting Darkspawn?”  
Duncan raised his head and looked into her eyes, the amber of his own glowed with a light that pierced her soul. “The Darkspawn are gone, love. You were there at the final battle.” He bent his head and suckled her breast as she arched into his mouth, crying out.  
Rosalyn gasped as he released his hold, a sense of abandonment building in her, “But…but what of Alistair? Was he there? Why isn’t he here?” she asked him, closing her eyes.  
“I am here, love.” Alistair’s voice was soothing. She opened her eyes to see Alistair in Duncan’s place. He lowered his head and kissed her, the promise of great passion oozing from him. “We are both here for you.”  
Rosalyn blinked twice, seeing first Alistair then Duncan again. Where was she? She tried to remember; the Tower, the battles, the sloth demon. “You’re hiding something,” she told him. “This is the Fade.”  
“Foolish child. I give you everything and you throw it away.” The voice was Alistair’s and Duncan’s and neither. “Violence is all you want. Then take it.”  
The battle was swift and over quickly; the demon fell at her hand. She stood over his body as it shimmered and disappeared. When she raised her head she found herself in a long corridor with four doors. The far door blazed with magic and she found she could not come near it. The first door was open and she entered it.  
The door sent her to a dark room. Zevran was lying on a rack, his arms outstretched while two men prodded him with sharp objects. Zevran made no sound even though he was obviously in pain.  
“Zevran! Are you all right?” Rosalyn asked, drawing her swords.  
“What are you doing here? You aren’t supposed to…” He groaned as one of the men stuck him with a red hot knife. “It’s part of the Crows initiation. I can…do this,” he panted.  
Rosalyn took a step forward, brandishing her weapons, “You are an Antivan Crow! Remember? This is a dream!”  
Zevran paused, considering her words. “That can’t be right, yet I know you are speaking the truth. What is this? A memory?”  
The torturers took the opening and struck. Rosalyn parried their thrusts easily, darting in and out. When they lay dead, they shimmered like the demon and disappeared and Zevran was standing before her in the corridor. “Well, that was bracing! Nothing like a good racking, is there?” He began to shimmer and fade before her eyes, “What?” he asked and then he was gone.  
The second door sent her to the top of a high hill. Wynne stood there, surrounded by the bodies of young mages. Her eyes were full of tears as she looked down at them. “I failed them,” she kept saying, “I failed them all.”  
“Don’t believe it, Wynne. It’s a dream, you’re in the Fade,” Rosalyn pleaded.  
Wynne shook her head, “Leave me. I shall scatter their ashes and give them rest.”  
Rosalyn grabbed the older woman’s shoulders, “Remember why you are here! You’re a mage and you’re in the Fade. Come with me!”  
“Stay with us, Wynne. Let us give you rest. You have earned your place with us,” spoke the voices of the dead.  
Wynne’s eyes grew wide as she realized her mistake. “Maker! Stay away creatures!” She raised her staff as Rosalyn struck out with her swords, striking down the corpses as they closed in on them.  
“Is it over?” asked Wynne, “Thank….” She shimmered and disappeared before she could finish and Rosalyn was back in the corridor, standing in front of the third door.  
Rosalyn opened the door and found herself in a small valley. Children were playing in the grass, laughing happily. She found Alistair under a tree, talking to a young blond haired girl. He picked the girl up and twirled her, making her laugh as his own laugh echoed back. Rosalyn smiled as she saw him. So happy and fulfilled, the worries of the war, the Wardens, even her, were gone. He turned as if he knew she was there. “Hey! You’re here! Come with me, I’ve someone you need to meet.” He took her hand and led her over to another tree where a woman was laying out sandwiches on a table as if for a meal. “This is my sister, Goldanna, and these,” he gestured at the dozens of children playing around them, “are her children.”  
“Your sister?” asked Rosalyn, “But I thought….”  
He continued as if she hadn’t spoken, “We’re one big happy family again.”  
“Alistair?” asked the woman, “Is your friend staying?”  
Alistair took Rosalyn’s hand, “Say you’ll stay. Goldanna’s an excellent cook.”  
“You need to come with me, Alistair. This is a dream,” she told him.  
“I don’t think so. I’m happy here and you would be too. Say you’ll stay.”  
Rosalyn took his face in her hands. “Alistair, concentrate on me, on what I say. You’re in the Fade. This is a dream. You have to come with me!” she begged. “Please!”  
His eyes were glazed as he looked at her, but a spark lit in them at her words. “There was…a tower…the Circle…demons. I…can’t…remember.”  
“You must come with me!”  
“NO! He is ours!” screamed Goldanna. Rosalyn drew her swords and found Alistair beside her, sword and shield in his hands. The demon drew on her child minions to attack but Rosalyn concentrated her attack on Goldanna, finally felling her with a blow to the neck and the minions were gone.  
“Goldanna?” he said as he stared at the demon’s body in its true form. “I didn’t…how could I?”  
Rosalyn put her hand on his arm, pulling him away. “It’s the Fade, nothing is what it appears.” He turned to look at her and nodded, then disappeared, leaving her standing in front of the fourth door, alone.  
The fourth door opened to reveal a twisted garden of unearthly plants and trees, intertwining amongst each other. Rosalyn worked her way to the center, reaching out with her senses and feeling her way. An opening appeared ahead and she found him, Sloth, standing in the center.  
“Ahhh, another rebellious soul. Playtime is over and it’s time to go back now,” said the creature, its voice dripping with promise and desire.  
Rosalyn shook her head, “I’m done with you. I want to be free.”  
“But you can be free here, happy and safe with the love of those you desire. Isn’t that what you want? It is what they want.” Alistair, Wynne and Zevran appeared next to her, their weapons drawn.  
“No!” she replied.  
“So be it,” said Sloth as he rose up and became an ogre. The four of them fought the creature through four different changes, each on more powerful and draining than the last. When at last he was defeated, a young mage stood in the demon’s place.  
“Niall?” asked Wynne.  
“It is I, Wynne. You did it,” the mage said. “I knew you could. When you go, take the Litany of Adralla from my body, it will help you in your fight. Farewell.” He disappeared, leaving them in the fourth floor atrium, alone.

@@@@@

Though not physically tired from their ordeal with the sloth demon, the party decided to take some time to rest and recover their wits before continuing on. Zevran scrounged up some cheese and bread and Wynne produced a few bottles of homemade wine she had found along the way. “The apprentices won’t thank me for stealing their stash,” she laughed.  
Zevran left for a brief scout ahead and Wynne searched the room for anything that might assist them in their work. Alistair sat with his back to the wall, silently sharpening his sword. Rosalyn had learned it was one of his ways to deal with uncomfortable feelings. The sound of the whetstone against the metal sang as he moved it up and down the edge. She bent down and grabbed the hilt of his sword and took it from him, handing him her own. “There will nothing left if you keep that up, she told him.” He took her blade, checked the edge and began to run the stone over it. She watched him for a bit, and satisfied he was okay, sat down next to him and pulled out her own whetstone to sharpen her daggers. “You didn’t eat,” she said.  
“I’m not hungry,” he replied.  
“And you’re no good to anyone if you’re too weak to fight, Alistair. Please?”  
He reluctantly put down her blade and picked up a wedge of cheese. Smelling it, his eyebrows lifted as he recognized the type and bit into it heartily. “My favorite,” he commented, his mouth full.  
Rosalyn smiled at his enthusiasm. “I thought you’d like that. There’s more if you want it.” He nodded and helped himself. “Would you like to talk about it?” she asked.  
Alistair stopped chewing and looked up at the windows that lined the atrium. The sun was coming up and they had begun to glow with the early morning light. “I….I was happy. I’ve never felt that way before; total contentment.” He shuddered as he remembered, “I never wanted to leave. I was eager to give up the fight, the throne, even you and the Wardens for it. Why?”  
Rosalyn thought about what he said. She understood it too well. She was ready to stay with in Weisshaupt and be happy with the shades of Duncan and Alistair forever. “Our strongest dreams are what we can’t have. You want a family, I want to be free and belong. They are good dreams, Alistair, but they are unlikely given the lives we have chosen and who we are. We knew that and used it against the demon. You made your stand and I am proud of you.”  
“I would still be there if you hadn’t come for me,” he said, looking down at the floor.  
She turned her head to him, “I will always come for you when you need me.”  
Turning his head to her, he looked into her eyes and saw the truth. He dropped the sword and stone and gathered her up into his arms, burying his face in her hair, gaining strength until it was time to move on.

@@@@@

The young Templar was held in a cage of energy that both imprisoned and sustained him at the same time. As powerful as she was, Wynne could not break the spell, only weaken it. Once weakened, the man was able to speak to them. His name was Cullen and he had been there since the beginning, enduring endless hours of mind torture and attempts to control him. It had been by shear will that he had resisted so long; all the others had long since succumbed.  
“Where are the mages that stood against Uldred?” Wynne asked him.  
Cullen was confused, “They are in the Harrowing Chamber, but there is nothing you can do to help them. You must kill Uldred.”  
“We will,” Rosalyn told him.  
“You must kill them all!” Cullen was emphatic. “None can survive!”  
Rosalyn shook her head, “I want to save as many as I can. They can’t all have turned.”  
“Thank you, I knew you would see the way,” a relieved Wynne responded.  
Cullen shook his head, “No one ever listens! To insure the security of the Tower, you must kill everyone up there!”  
“I will not cause the death of innocents,” Rosalyn said.  
“Then you are a fool. Maker watch over you,” said Cullen as they climbed the stairs.  
If the tower below had been an indication of what they were to find in the Harrowing Chamber, they were unprepared for what they found. A group of mages lay on the stone floor in the middle of the room, surrounded by abominations. A single man stood in the middle, his mage robes flowing with the power emanating from him. He turned as he sensed their presence. “I bid you welcome. Care to join in our…revels?”  
Rosalyn was tired, dirty and wanted nothing more than to find a meal and a hot bath. She had had enough. “I take it you are Uldred.”  
“My pleasure. I’m quite impressed that you are alive but of course that means that my servants are not. Pity.”  
“You will soon follow them,” was her cool reply.  
A smile unlike anything she had ever seen spread across Uldred’s face. Both Alistair and Zevran sensed the malice it contained and moved closer to Wynne and Rosalyn. “I offer you a gift unlike anything you can imagine. You’ve seen but the tip of what you can have. It is glorious!”  
“There is nothing glorious about what you’ve become, Uldred,” taunted Wynne.  
He turned his gaze on the woman he’d known and lived with so long. “I could give you this gift. Join me, Wynne”  
“No!” was Alistair’s’ firm retort. “Enough!” He stepped forward and threw all his power into his Templar talents, casting Holy Smite, draining mana from Uldred and causing him to stagger. Zevran took the advantage and struck from behind, his poisoned daggers flying while Wynne threw ice and fire at the abominations, keeping them at bay. “Use the Litany!” Wynne screamed.  
Rosalyn began to chant the litany’s words, memorized as she had sat in the atrium. Finding a rhythm and keeping the words going, over and over as the others continued to strike the creatures. When at last, only Uldred remained, Rosalyn pulled her throwing knife and hurled it, catching him dead center in the eye. He dropped to the ground, spasming his last as the words of the Litany died on her lips.  
The next thing Rosalyn remembered was Alistair’s voice, coaxing her back as a cool compress was placed on her forehead. “Rosalyn? Come back to me. Come on recruit, shape up!”  
“Stop that,” she replied shakily. She sat up slowly with Alistair’s support.  
“Easy does it,” he said, grinning at her. “It’s over.”  
“What happened?”  
“The Litany,” answered an unfamiliar voice. “It takes a lot out of you. You did a marvelous job, though; as good as any mage.” The voice belonged to an older, grey haired man with a kind look about him, First Enchanter Irving. “Uldred is dead.”  
“What happens now?” she asked.  
“We will rebuild. The Circle owes you a debt that we can never repay.”  
“Can you come to Redcliffe to save a possessed child?” Rosalyn asked him.  
Irving nodded, “Of course, my dear. We will leave at once. Come; let’s go tell Greagoir his job has been done for him.”

Return to Redcliffe

Alistair had paid the merchant extra to remain at the dock for them when they were ready to go. Leliana was delighted to see them when they emerged from the Tower as were the Templars. The Wardens secured the promise of help from the remaining mages as well as any Templars that could be spared.  
“Irving, I would like to accompany the Wardens and help them with their task,” Wynne had asked.  
“Are you sure, Wynne? We have need of you here,” Irving replied.  
Wynne shook her head, “There are greater things at stake here than just the Circle, Irving. These are good people. I wish to join them.”  
Rosalyn looked at Alistair, who nodded and smiled. “We would be honored to have you join us, Wynne,” she told the older mage.  
With Irving, Wynne and the extra mages in tow, the companions made their way back to Redcliffe. The weather was calm so the going was smooth on the return trip. Rosalyn found herself standing at the bow, looking out over the lake as they traveled through the light waves. She reached up and untied her ponytail, allowing the wind to blow her hair and cool her off more. It felt so good, it was freedom in itself.  
Zevran approached her as she stood there. He had washed and rebraided his hair and changed his shirt. He stood next to her, looking down. “You have not mentioned that moment in the Tower, sweet. Have you thought about what I said?”  
Rosalyn had thought about it, a lot. Zevran was an attractive man, a worldly man, an elf like herself. There was no shame in being with him. As an elven woman, she was expected to marry an elf and bear elven children. Marriage to a human or dwarf was unthinkable. Children born to such unions were not elven. She was a member of a dying race and she had a responsibility. Yet the Grey Wardens had changed most of that for her. Children were no longer a concern as it was unlikely she would ever have any. Her upbringing still haunted her; any man other than an elf would not be acceptable to her family or her people.  
And there was Alistair. She had fought her feelings for him to no avail. He was kind, generous and good; everything she desired and didn’t deserve. But he was human, and she knew what that meant for her. The worst thing she could do was to bring home a human man as her chosen one.  
“Yes. I have thought about it,” she replied.  
Zevran reached down and took her hand, bringing it to his lips, “And what do you think of my request?”  
“Zevran….I” she started, unable to finish. “I…don’t…please. I need time to think. It has been a trying time for all of us.”  
“Of course. It has at that,” he answered. “The offer stands. I can wait.” With that he bent over her hand, kissing the palm, running his tongue over her skin. His touch sent shivers over her spine and he heard her breath catch. He smiled at her reaction and left her standing.  
Alistair stood with his back to the mast, his arms crossed, watching her. She looked so lovely, with the wind in her unbound hair and the sun on her skin. He smiled as she took deep breaths of the fresh air. His smile quickly turned to a frown as he watched Zevran approach her. The elf was handy, he had to admit, too handy at times. He had seen how she reacted to Zevran’s kiss when they were in the Tower. Her resolve was melting and he was afraid she would be hurt. Alistair had seen too many like Zevran in Denerim, slick and sly, maneuvering and conniving. When the elf bent to kiss Rosalyn’s hand, he saw her reaction, excitement and tension together. Her resistance was failing, he could tell. He took his turn.  
“Here,” he said, approaching her from behind.  
Rosalyn jumped at his words, and smiled when she saw him. She looked down and saw he had a single red rose in his hand. He held it out to her and she slowly raised her hand and took it from him. “I thought you would like this. It came from Lothering. I…wanted you to have it.”  
She looked the flower in her hand, turning it around and around, finally holding it up to her nose to smell its fragrance. “I…I don’t know what to say. It’s….” She trailed off, thoughts of him in her Fade dreams rushing at her. It was almost too much.  
He continued, “I should have left it alone, but the Darkspawn taint would have destroyed it. I wanted you to know what a rare and wonderful thing you are to find in this dark time.”  
“Th…thank you, Alistair. It’s lovely.”  
His hand reached up to brush the strands of hair from her face; it was like silk running through his fingers. He tucked the stray strands behind her ears and cupped her cheek lightly in his hand. Rosalyn leaned into his palm, sighing and closing her eyes. His lips met hers slowly in a kiss, tentatively asking for permission. She sighed again and opened her lips, sending him the answer he desired and he deepened the kiss. Her hands came up to his chest and grabbed onto his shirt, steadying herself. Alistair sensed her reaction and brought his other hand up to capture her face as he continued to work her lips with his. When he gasped at his own reaction, he slowly broke away, his lips still barely touching hers. “I…I’m glad you like it,” he said quietly, fighting for control.  
“It’s beautiful,” she replied with a voice full of emotion. He smiled and rested his forehead on hers as they felt the boat move through the waves.  
Later as they came closer to Redcliffe, Rosalyn asked him a question she had been toying with for hours. “Tell me about your sister.”  
They had been sitting on the deck dozing in each other’s arms when she had spoken. “Where did you….oh, the Fade,” he cleared his throat, fishing for the right words. “She’s a half-sister, really. Older. She would be the only real family I have left that’s not royalty. Last I heard she was married and living near the Denerim Alienage.”  
“Would you like to see her? We could be going there very soon,” she asked.  
Alistair’s eyes lit up, “Could we Lyn? Her name is Goldanna. We could see your father too, if you like.”  
“I would like that, and so would he,” she replied. There was a shudder to her heart as she said it, but she held fast. Her path was set and damn the consequences. She reached up and kissed him.

Redcliffe Castle

The group arrived at the castle where Irving and the mages began the ritual to send a mage into the Fade to save Connor. Rosalyn had never seen magic in action outside of combat and healing so she was fascinated but relieved both she and Alistair’s skills were useless in the situation. She never wanted to enter the Fade conscious again after her previous experience there and she was sure Alistair didn’t either.  
Wynne had volunteered to go and could not be convinced to allow another to go in her stead. After much arguing, Irving capitulated and she was allowed, returning triumphantly to the conscious world after a few hours. Alistair gently picked her up and carried her to a waiting bed chamber where she would rest for the remainder of the day. Connor had returned to his old self, playful and happy, with no memory of his possession and the things he had done.  
Jowan was thanked profusely by both the Arlessa and Teagan and was allowed the use of a locked store room off the kitchen as a temporary cell. Alistair made sure the room was secure by having Sandal place runes around the door to prevent the use of magic. A warm bed, table and chair were brought in and he was allowed to have writing utensils, paper and books if he wished. He was speechless in his gratitude. Irving promised to put in a good word with the Templars on his behalf.  
Rosalyn suggested they spend an extra day in Redcliffe to allow all the companions time to rest and for Bodahn to resupply the group for their next leg. No one objected to the decision.  
Supper that night was simple but hearty and the group relished the warmth of good food, comfortable beds and hot baths. Sten elected to sleep out of doors in the bailey yard but was persuaded by Teagan to join them in the hall for the meal. Morrigan surprised everyone by actually accepting the offer of a room, retiring there as soon as she had finished eating.  
Alistair watched Zevran out of the corner of his eye during the entire meal. The elf had commanded the only open spot at the table next to Rosalyn, leaving Alistair to sit across from her. He wouldn’t have minded so much except Zevran had ulterior motives where Rosalyn was concerned. It was a pissing match and Alistair would win, no matter what.  
After overhearing Rosalyn turn Zevran down for a walk in the garden for a third time, he sprang into action. “Rosalyn? Do you remember that errand we said we needed to run last time we were here?”  
Rosalyn’s head snapped up at Alistair’s voice, “Errand? Oh yes!” She turned to Zevran and smiled sweetly at him, “Do forgive me, Zevran, I need to excuse myself.” With that said, she and Alistair bid the others good night and headed out of the hall.  
Once out of sight, Alistair grabbed her hand and pulled her into a dimly lit servant’s hallway and straight into his arms. “Maker’s breath, I thought I’d never get you away from there!” His mouth came down on hers as her arms came around his neck. Rosalyn moaned as he reached down to her thighs, pulling her up to straddle him, never breaking the kiss. She shifted in his arms and he fell back against the wall of the hallway, holding her close.  
A subtle clearing of a throat was heard shortly after and they parted to see a young elven servant standing in the hallway with a basket of linens, patiently waiting for them to finish. Rosalyn’s face began to turn red with embarrassment at being caught in such a position but Alistair just smiled at the girl who melted just as Rosalyn had so many times.  
When the girl had left, Rosalyn looked up at him, a puzzled look on her face, “Alistair, are you even remotely aware of the affect you have on women?”  
“You mean that I repel them? Present company excepted, I hope,” he remarked, a smile building behind the seemingly dour persona.  
Rosalyn’s eyes narrowed as she looked at him, causing him to laugh. “It’s not really funny, you know. I think that you do. In fact, I think you use it to get what you want.”  
“Get what I want? Perish the thought!”  
“You do know! All this time I thought you were totally unaware of the affect you had on me when you knew what you were doing all along!”  
Rosalyn’s anger made Alistair laugh all the harder, “If I was aware of my effect on women, I’d be a rich man by now with a whole harem of beautiful women like yourself.”  
Just as she was coming up with a superb retort, she realized what he had said. “You…you think I’m beautiful?”  
Alistair reached across the hallway and pulled her closer to him, “I think you are the most beautiful girl I have ever seen,” he told her, his voice husky.  
She reached up and traced her hand down his cheek, cupping it gently. “You’re forgiven,” she said softly, standing on tiptoe and bringing her lips to his. He met her halfway, accepting the apology.

@@@@@

With the promise of a day off, most of the companions were free to do whatever they wished. Wynne elected to remain in her bed chamber and rest, the stress of the previous day still upon her. Leliana went down to the Chantry to help the sisters with their daily work, dragging Zevran along with her. Rosalyn couldn’t help but notice the wink she gave Alistair as she left. Rosalyn knew a set up when she saw one. Sten paid a visit to the castle armorer with Teagan to be fitted for a new set of armor. Teagan had been concerned the big Qunari was improperly outfitted and vowed to see him taken care of in payment for his services during and after the battle. Morrigan was nowhere to be found but no one seemed to mind much. She was no doubt happily pursuing her own fancies.  
Rosalyn found she had plans when she awoke that morning. A knock on the door revealed a young elven servant bearing a plain but well-made dress and chemise, a bucket of hot water and soap. “Ser Alistair bids you good morning, miss. I’m to help you dress and tell you to meet him in the bailey.”  
“Oh,” replied a surprised Rosalyn. “Please tell him I’ll be down soon.” She took the water from the servant and poured it into the wash basin and began to wash her face and hands. The confused servant let her have her way, laying the dress and a white shift on the bed and running to give the message to Alistair.  
The dress was dark brown linen with a gold sash that matched her eyes. Rosalyn smiled as she thought of Alistair choosing the dress himself. It fit perfectly and was comfortable to wear. Her heart twisted a little at the memory of the last time she had worn a dress. She looked down at her hand with the ring on it, and the scar on her palm. “I remember,” she said quietly.  
Rosalyn laced up her boots and looked in the mirror, hardly recognizing herself. The servant had returned and bade her to sit in the chair by the window where she began to brush out Rosalyn’s hair, pulling it back from her face but leaving it streaming down her back. Instead of a leather thong, she used a gold silk ribbon that contrasted with her hair to tie it back. She thanked the girl who bowed. “Ser Alistair is waiting, miss.”  
Alistair was indeed waiting for her in the bailey as he promised. He paced back and forth in anticipation of the day he had planned, a tour of the castle grounds and a picnic; she had said she wanted to see something from his childhood and he would show her.  
He stopped his pacing long enough to look up the steps and there she was, looking so wonderful in the brown dress with the gold sash. He had asked the seamstress to bring him the gowns she had and had chosen it himself, using his own money to buy it. Her hair was pulled back from her face and streamed down her back. He met her at the bottom of the stairs, a smile on his face. “You look wonderful, Lyn.”  
Rosalyn blushed at his regard, “So do you.” He was wearing dark brown doeskin breeches with his boots, a plain white linen shirt and a blue coat. He looked so handsome; she couldn’t stop looking at him.  
“Shall we go?” he asked, holding out his hand.  
“Yes. Where are we going?  
Alistair smiled, “A trip to my past. I did promise you that didn’t I?”  
She laughed, “Yes, you did. Where to first?”  
“The castle grounds, milady.” She placed her hand in his and he tucked it under his arm, safe and warm.  
They spent the morning walking around the castle with Alistair showing her his old room off the kitchen, the schoolroom, the lists and finally the stables where he had lived during the last years he had been in Redcliffe. Rosalyn hadn’t known his life had been so hard.  
“Your life…it wasn’t all that different from mine. How is that possible, Alistair? You are a king’s son,” she asked him, confused.  
He paused a moment, gathering his thoughts, “I suppose it wasn’t all that different when I think about it. I had clothes to wear, food to eat and a roof over my head. Didn’t you when you were growing up?”  
“Of course I did. But I also had parents and a bed. Didn’t you want that?”  
“Oh yes, once I knew what they were like, I swore I would never sleep anywhere but a bed. As for parents, I guess I would miss them, if I knew what it was like to have them. It’s hard to miss something you never knew.”  
Rosalyn nodded, “I suppose you’re right. But how did you manage to stay so positive? I would guess that most of the time, you had no reason to.”  
Alistair laughed, “It’s not like I was totally abandoned, Lyn. I had caretakers along the way. I outgrew some and evaded others. I had a reputation for being a troublemaker at times, jokes and such. I wasn’t always the most popular boy around, but I suppose I was unforgettable.”  
She smiled, “Now I know why Lloyd at the tavern looked at you so funny. A victim of yours, I assume?”  
“He was one of my favorites. I could always get a rise of him.” He turned around and put his hands on her upper arms, holding her in place. “Despite how it looks, Rosalyn, I was happy here. This is home, and always will be.” He pulled her close and kissed her, showing her how happy he really was. Rosalyn held him, absorbing his good humor. ” He was happy,” she thought.  
When he had released her, she asked, “What’s next?”  
“Dinner; I’m starved. How about a picnic?”  
“Sounds like fun, where at?”  
“Oh this you’ll like,” he told her, taking her hand. “The best view in Redcliffe.”  
Alistair led her back to the castle and up to the second floor. At the end of the hall near their bed chambers, there was a door set into the wall that Rosalyn had never noticed before. He pulled the door open and revealed a set of stairs that wound up and around. “Hope you aren’t afraid of heights,” he said, pulling her along.  
The staircase seemed never ending but eventually they came to a door set in the round stone wall. Alistair opened the door and she found they were on top of one of the castle’s four towers. Slowly she walked to the edge to look down and found herself jumping back towards Alistair, afraid she was going to fall. His arms came around her, providing her with a feeling of security. She turned her head and looked up at him, smiling at his thoughtfulness and he kissed her fears away. When she had her bearings, she slowly made her way back to the edge and looked down at the castle and village below.  
“Unbelievable! I didn’t think anyone could ever be so high up and not be on a mountain. I can see the Circle Tower from here!” she exclaimed.  
“Over there are the Frostback Mountains where we’ll find Orzammar.” He turned around and pointed in the opposite direction, “That’s the southern Bannorn, and if you squint, you can see the edge of the Brecilian Forest, where we’ll go to find the Dalish.”  
Rosalyn had never seen anything so wonderful and beautiful her whole life. “This is why you love it so.”  
“Yes,” he replied. “I may be the son of a king, Rosalyn, but I’m not a prince. I’m just an ordinary man.”  
She shook her head, “You are far from ordinary, Alistair. And I wouldn’t have it any other way. You’ve shown me things I could only dream of before. Thank you for that.”  
The smile she got was the best she’d ever seen and she felt it down to her toes. He put out his hand for hers, “Shall we eat?” Rosalyn nodded and took it.

@@@@@

After lunch, they sat for a while, looking out over the land and enjoying the cool breeze that blew over them. Alistair told her stories while they sat, of his tricks on Lloyd, his schooling and early warrior training and how he came to live in the stables.  
“Well, I thought one day I would try something I’d heard one of the older boys talking about. I spent days setting it up, picking the right candidate who wouldn’t be too mad at me, collecting all the materials I needed. It was quite the production.”  
“What happened?” she asked.  
Alistair began to turn a little sheepish, “I had it all set up in the larder. A bucket over the door full of water with a string tied to the door. All anyone had to do was open the door and the bucket would fall, drenching them. I was pretty proud of myself.”  
Rosalyn smiled, “I take it that it didn’t go well.”  
He shook his head. “Not well at all. I was aiming for one of the kitchen boys who liked to tease me but what I got was a lot more than I bargained for.” He cleared his throat, “Unbeknownst to me, the Arlessa was working in the kitchens that day and the bucket was right over the door to the herb closet. She opened the door and…..well you can guess what happened.”  
“Makers breath, she must have been furious!” exclaimed Rosalyn.  
“You have no idea how much. I was lectured to for hours in her sitting room. The Arl was gone away on business so she banished me to the stables as punishment. I thought it was for only a few days, but it was permanent. I stayed away from her after that, at least as much as I could. I suppose it was the first leg of my journey to the Abbey. Not long after, two Templars came for me and took me away.”  
“That’s a terrible thing to do to a child!”  
“Perhaps. She hated me and everything I stood for and probably still does. There were rumors that I was Eamon’s son and she felt threatened by it. The rumors weren’t true but the damage was done. I blamed the Arl for it all and it wasn’t until much later I learned that it was her doing. I always wondered what my father had to say about it.”  
“Maric?”  
“He made sure I was cared for until his death. Supposedly Cailan took over when he died. It was why I was left in the Abbey after I was sent there. What better place to hide and protect a possible heir than a heavily fortified fortress surrounded by an army. It also served to keep me from stirring up any trouble.” He stopped and took a drink of ale, “I was so unhappy there that when Eamon came to see me and apologize, that’s when I broke my mother’s amulet. I threw it at the wall and stomped out of the Grand Cleric’s office.”  
“Boys do foolish things at that age, girls too. I was so mad at my mother for dying that I broke the china vase that she had been given as a wedding present. It was the only prized possession she had. It was stupid, but I can’t change it. I can, however, change your stupidity, I think.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out a piece of folded paper and handed it to him.  
Alistair looked at her, surprise and wariness etched on his face. He opened the paper slowly so as to not lose the contents, and gasped at what he saw. There in the paper was an amulet of Andraste, hanging from a golden chain. It was a simple thing, ceramic and glazed but still lovely. His eyes became dark as he remembered the last time he had seen it. His voice shook as he finally spoke, “My mother’s amulet? I…I thought I’d never see it again. Where did you find this?’  
Rosalyn lifted it up and held it in her palm, turning it over with her other hand, “In the Arl’s study when we went looking for keys to the locked rooms of the castle.”  
He shook his head, not believing he really had it after all those years. “And you remembered me telling you about it. No one ever remembers when I tell them things.” He turned to look at her and smiled.  
She had never seen such a wonderful look on his face and wanted it to never end. She took the amulet and hung it around his neck. “That’s where it belongs,” she said softly. Alistair gathered her up in a hug and held her tight, words failing him. “I always remember when you tell me things and always will. You are….special to me.” She had said it now and she would stick by it.  
Alistair drew back and held her face in his hands, “Maker! You have no idea how special you are to me.” His lips met hers in a kiss that sent shivers down her spine and she knew how special she was.

Seeking the Urn

After the wonderful day before, it was difficult for Rosalyn to get her mind back on their work. As dawn arrived, she was awake, her mind raging in a million different directions, none of which led to the war and how to stop the Blight.  
Alistair. Even the mention of his name was starting to send thrills through her. She knew she should be worried that she was so infatuated with him. He was a human man, and no human man had ever had her best interests at heart. At least none had until now. Elves were supposed to accept the marriages arranged by their elders, who knew better. Once done, they were expected to have children and perpetuate the race, passing down their knowledge and lore as they went. She would have been happy doing just that, until everything went wrong and the Grey Wardens came.  
Perhaps the real reason was that she really didn’t see him as a human. He never mentioned that she was an elf, giving her all the courtesy and respect that he paid Wynne and Leliana. Even Morrigan, whom he admitted he couldn’t stand, always received her due portion of politeness and respect. She was always as high in his regard as they were. As a Warden he worked side by side with Rosalyn, never acknowledging her failings unless he felt she would become a better fighter and Warden if he did so. Even on those rare occasions when he found fault with her, he was kind and gentle, teaching not scolding. With the one exception of the Lothering bandits, he had never been cross with her. He had admitted he was wrong and strove to understand her point of view.  
Despite all the wonderful things she felt about him, the old fears were there. She was afraid to go farther with him, afraid of the heartache she had felt when losing Dallan and Nelaros. Every one she loved died or was ripped away from her. She couldn’t bear to have it happen again.  
A knock at the door brought her back to reality. “Lyn? Are you all right? It’s nearly time to leave,” rose Alistair’s voice. She jumped out of bed and donned the robe left out by the maid the night before. Walking to the door, she threw back the bolt to find him standing there, fully armed and armored, all shiny and handsome. She caught her breath at the site of him.  
“I’m sorry! I overslept, I’m afraid. Too comfortable, these beds. I’ll be ready in a few minutes. Have a seat,” she said and went over to the screen behind the corner, grabbing her armor from the chair as she did.  
Alistair was hesitant for a moment, then, remembering how close they had been living for the last couple of months, entered the room, shutting the door behind him. “I have seen her in her smallclothes before,” he thought. The image of Rosalyn in her smallclothes came to him, and he found his hands starting to shake while day dreams of what was under her smallclothes assailed his mind. He shook his head hard, banishing the images to the back of his mind, saving them for later. “I thought we would try to head for the pass the other side of Rainesfere. It should be easy to get to and clear all the way. How does that sound?”  
“You know the area here, I don’t. I’ll let it be your call.” He heard the sound of leather breeches being pulled on and closed his eyes to block the image. “Damn! I forgot to get this buckle changed. It’s too hard to latch,” she ranted. “Can you do this one for me?”  
“Uhhhh…sure. Come out here.”  
Rosalyn emerged from behind the screen in a state of undress that nearly brought him to his knees. She was wearing nothing but her breast bands and her breeches, which she was holding up with one hand. The offending buckle was on the breeches waistband. Alistair swallowed heavily and removed his gauntlets, placing his hands on the buckle at her waist. The position was awkward as he found himself staring her right in the breasts, while the growing tightness in his own breeches began to be uncomfortable. He somehow managed to get the clasp shut, letting out a deep breath as he did.  
His eyes began to wander up her stomach to her breasts, securely hidden from view. He swallowed as his eyes roamed higher, coming to rest on her lips. Her mouth opened slightly and her tongue came out, inviting him in. Alistair never knew what snapped but his lips were on hers in a blink of an eye, his hands roaming her body, seeking her pleasure, hearing her moan. Rosalyn’s hands were in his hair, and around his neck, holding him close as he sought what he wanted. She was at the point of breaking and would give whatever he asked. At the last moment, he pulled back, gasping and panting with want and need. “Lyn,” he whispered, “I want…I…we should go.” The last was said unhappily, and she could hear the disappointment in his voice.  
“Y…Yes,” she replied unsteadily. “I’ll be ready in a few minutes.”  
He nodded, “I’ll wait downstairs…I think. Um…thanks.” He turned quickly and left her, shutting the door behind him a bit too loudly. Rosalyn went to the door when she heard the door to the garderobe next door open and shut hard, and heard him moan inside. She stuck her head outside to check on him when she heard him as he took care of his need. Her eyes went wide as she finally understood.  
Alistair wanted her; badly.

Denerim

Lady Isolde’s information on the scholar Brother Genetivi proved interesting to say the least. Rosalyn and Alistair knocked on the door and were met by a young man in plain clothes who, while concerned about the monk’s whereabouts, did not seemed overly worried about his disappearance. Alistair was polite and kind, asking as many questions as he dared and getting as many suspect answers in return. In the end, they had left, walking across the road to the Gnawed Noble tavern where they had rooms.  
Sitting in the dining room at supper, Rosalyn expressed her unhappiness with how the meeting had gone. “Didn’t it seem odd to you that the man introduced himself as ‘Brother Weylon’, yet he wasn’t wearing Chantry robes? I thought the monks had to wear them all the time?”  
“They do. All their worldly goods are given to the poor so all they should have is their robes. I didn’t like his answers either; too slick and apologetic. What do you want to do?” Alistair asked.  
Rosalyn got that look in her eyes that she got when she was formulating something devious and underhanded. He’d come to call it her “smuggler’s look.” He’d been afraid of that look in Lothering, but now he thought it made her look sexy. “Maker!” he thought furiously, “What’s wrong with me?” Rosalyn looked at him, puzzled, one eyebrow cocked up.  
“Are you okay?” she asked, concerned.  
“Uhhhh…sure…I’m fine. You have an idea.”  
A sweet smile spread over her face as she nodded. “We need to find Zevran and Leliana.”  
Later that night the four companions made their way across the street to Genetivi’s house. There were no lights in the windows so they hoped that meant the house was unoccupied. Zevran and Leliana went around to the back of the house while Rosalyn and Alistair took positions at the front. At the signal, they rushed in to find Zevran and Leliana already in heated combat with Weylon, who turned out to be a mage. Alistair disabled his magic while Zevran stabbed the man from behind. An arrow to the eye courtesy of Leliana finished him.  
They searched the house to find no sign of Genetivi but found the body of a young man they believed to be the real Weylon and signs of a mysterious cult of Andraste.  
“I’ve heard of them. They seem to think that Andraste will return in the form of a dragon and lay waste to the unbelievers. The Chantry has been trying to eradicate them for years.” He shook his head, continuing to peruse the documents they found. “If they are involved it won’t be easy. They are fierce about defending themselves; we will have to tread carefully.”  
“Should we follow them to their hideout?” asked Leliana.  
“It’s the only way to find out what happened to Genetivi. Without his information, we aren’t going to find the Urn,” remarked Rosalyn.  
“I think it’s time the Grey Wardens paid the village of Haven a visit, don’t you?” asked Alistair.  
Rosalyn looked up at him and smiled. “Absolutely.”

@@@@@

They returned to the tavern, taking a light meal in the dining room before retiring. Alistair walked Rosalyn up to her room, stopping at the door to bid her goodnight. “Sleep well, Lyn. Pleasant dreams.” He bent down to give her a light kiss but his body had other ideas. His hand came up to her cheek as his other arm encircled her, pulling her towards him with a ferocity she wasn’t expecting. Rosalyn opened her mouth to the kiss, plunging into his, each of them tasting the other, their breath one. Her hands encircled his neck to entwine in his hair and he groaned as she rubbed against him, his hands running over her body. There was want; need and lust wrapped in their kiss and it scared her. She’d never felt this way about anyone before.  
“Alistair…I need to stop,” she pleaded. “Please…I…”  
“Shhh. I know. I feel it too. I’ll stop,” he told her, catching his breath.  
“I want it so, but….I can’t explain it. Please understand.” Tears started to form in her eyes.  
He pulled her close, holding her tight. “I do. It’s not the right time. We’ll wait. You’ll tell me when you’re ready.”  
“I feel so foolish; like I’m leading you on.”  
Alistair smiled down at her, “I’m not helping at all, I know. I’m not very good at this. No experience, I’m afraid.”  
“You mean you’ve never….ever?” she asked him, astounded.  
He laughed, “The chantry is not a place for rambunctious boys, Lyn. We are all taught that sex is a horrible, dirty thing and we’ll never make it to the Maker if we do it. Now, while I believe it can be dirty at times, horrible it isn’t.”  
“You certainly make it sound like you have,” she remarked.  
“Uhhhh, about that…I may be misleading you a little there. I’ve never had actual intercourse with a woman, but I am not without, shall we say, experience.”  
“Experience?”  
“The Wardens are a pretty unsavory bunch and their favorite pastimes are drinking and whoring. I can handle the drinking part pretty well, but the whoring…I tended to just sit and drink when they were up to that. One night we were at a place near the palace and I was sitting there in the corner, drinking away, when this girl came in. She had blond hair and blue eyes, young and so pretty. I guess I was a little taken with her as she didn’t look like the usual type of woman you’d find there.”  
“What happened?” asked Rosalyn.  
“She caught my eye and came over to see me. Her name was Mari. Next thing I know, I’d put down my fifty silvers and we were in her room. How I got there, I don’t know, but I realized I couldn’t go through with it. I wanted it to be with someone I cared about so we ended up talking the whole hour. She thanked me for being so kind to her. Later, when the Wardens came back I always asked for her and we would go to her room and talk. She was seventeen and had been indentured to the house to pay off her family’s debts.”  
“I saw girls like that in the Alienage.”  
“One night I decided I wanted to go through with it. I went to the house and asked for Mari. We went to her room and I told her what I wanted. She refused me and gave me back my money. ‘You waited this long for the right girl, Alistair. Don’t throw it away on me,’ she said. So instead she decided to teach me what I needed to know to make my first time special. It was fun and I can say that Mari had a good time.”  
Rosalyn had never heard anything so unusual, “So you went to the whorehouse and paid money for the pleasure of pleasing a woman?”  
He laughed so hard she thought he’d choke, “Yes, I suppose I did at that. So while I can say I’ve never had a woman, I can’t say a woman never had me.” When he’d calmed, he continued, “Just before I left for Ostagar, I collected all the money I had and borrowed as much as I could then went to the whorehouse and asked for the madam. I bought her indenture.”  
“You what?”  
“I bought her. She was pretty stunned as well, but I couldn’t go to my eventual death knowing she wasn’t safe and happy. So I took her to Eamon’s estate and got her a position with the cook there. Sara is a good woman and a good friend and was happy to take her on as long as she didn’t practice her old ways. Mari was so glad that she made sure I had a really good time before I left the next day.” He blushed as he thought of that night.  
She was stunned, “In all my life, I’ve never met anyone like you. I never know what to think when I’m around you.”  
He moved in closer until his lips were nearly touching hers. “Then don’t,” he said, kissing her goodnight and walking down the hall, leaving her speechless and wanting.

@@@@@

The next day was to be a big one for Rosalyn. Alistair had promised to take her to see her family in the Alienage. She feared her family would not accept him; fears she still had not told Alistair. There were many things she hadn’t told him and she knew some of them would be hard for him to accept. She would have to start today.  
He called for her early, explaining that Zevran and Leliana would be accompanying them to the Alienage. They would spend the morning at her father’s then leave for Haven and their search for the Urn. “Enough time to catch up,” he said. Rosalyn was so nervous, she couldn’t eat.  
“Eat. It’s a long time until lunch,” said Alistair.  
“I guess I’m nervous. They haven’t had word of me for months. They may think I died at Ostagar.”  
“It should be cause for celebration when you resurrect, then,” he joked.  
She smiled at his jest, but the doubt still hung over her. Alistair was everything she desired and more, but he was human and that meant she would have to choose between him and her family. How could she?  
“Alistair?” she asked.  
“Mmmm?” he answered his mouth full.  
“There’s something you should know about our visit today.”  
Alistair looked up, puzzled at the tone of her voice, “What is it?”  
Rosalyn gathered the words together, “My family….friends, they might not…accept you.”  
His eyebrows shot up at that. “I don’t understand. What do you mean they won’t accept me?”  
“It’s just…well…you aren’t an elf.”  
“And you just now noticed this?” he asked, teasing.  
“It’s not funny!” she cried, and made to leave.  
He reached up and grabbed her arm, pulling her down to sit next to him. “I’m sorry. Why is it important that I’m not an elf?”  
Rosalyn was nearly in tears as it was, with all the nerves of returning home. “Humans aren’t usually welcome in the Alienage. And you and I being…close…well…that will make it more difficult than usual. For you and me.”  
“Because I’m human and I’m with you.”  
“Yes. There might be repercussions. Elven women are encouraged to be with elven men. I’m…I’m not.”  
Alistair ran his hand through his hair and she could practically see him thinking the problem out in his head. Her senses told her he was confused but not angry or unhappy. “Then I guess we’ll play this one by ear. We won’t say anything unless we have to. If it seems to be a problem, I’ll….well I guess I’ll disappear for a while and come back to get you when you are through.” He smiled at her as he realized what she had said to him, “So you are telling me that you consider yourself, ‘with’ me?”  
Rosalyn blushed, knowing he’d put her on the spot and was probing her with his senses. “Yes…I do,” she said confidently.  
“Good. Then you won’t be disappointed when I do this…” He bent down and kissed her, causing her to sigh into his mouth.  
“Oh no,” she replied, seductively, “I’m never disappointed in that.” He laughed softly and kissed her again.  
With breakfast over, the group made their way out to the Alienage gate. Rosalyn’s stomach was turning flips as she walked; each step became harder for her. Alistair watched her and reached for her hand, squeezing it in reassurance. She looked up and smiled slightly at him, finding the courage to go on.  
At the gate she was surprised to find guards stationed on both sides and the bars down. “Why is the gate down?” she asked.  
“By order of the new Arl of Denerim, no one is to enter the Alienage,” was the curt answer.  
“New arl? What happened to the old one?” asked Zevran.  
“Killed at Ostagar with most of his men,” said the man. “His son, Vaughan, died when the elves rioted. The new arl ordered a purge to eliminate the troublemakers.”  
Rosalyn’s face became very pale and her voice shaky as she spoke, “A purge…you’re just trapping all those people in there?”  
The man was becoming impatient with their questions, “The gates are to stay closed until order is restored. No more than a day or two, we hope. When the all clear is given, then the gates will be reopened. Now, get on your way.”  
Rosalyn stood still for a moment then turned and staggered aimlessly away. “No…no, it can’t be!” she said, her voice tinged with despair. “Maker please let it not be true!”  
Alistair looked at Zevran and Leliana then at Rosalyn. Something was terribly wrong. “Lyn? What is it?”  
She shook her head, “It’s me; I did it. It’s my fault, not theirs! I did it!” She broke down, sinking to her knees on the ground, sobbing.  
Alistair rushed to her side, picking her up from the ground and holding her. “Rosalyn? Love? What’s your fault?”  
All she could do was shake her head and murmur, “It’s my fault. They’re being punished because of me!”  
He looked up at Zevran and Leliana who were as confused as he was. Alistair picked her up and the three of them took her back to the Gnawed Noble. The proprietor was kind enough to give them the use of a small bedroom off the dining area and he put Rosalyn on the bed, where she lay shivering and murmuring. Leliana left to get something to drink while Zevran went back to the gate to get more information. Alistair took off her boots and gloves, loosened her armor and covered her with a blanket.  
Leliana returned with Wynne and some wine with herbs. Together they managed to get Rosalyn to drink some. They sat with her for a bit until finally Rosalyn slept. Alistair stood by the door waiting for Zevran to return.  
When Zevran returned, the four of them stepped outside to talk. “It is as the guard said. The Alienage is closed. The Arl’s son was killed in a raid on his estate. Apparently the raiding party was made up of elves from the Alienage. I questioned one or two elves in the market and learned there was a wedding that day and Vaughan showed up with his guards and kidnapped some elven maidens. The elves mounted a rescue attempt to free them.”  
“And they killed Vaughan in the attempt?” asked Leliana.  
“It would seem so,” he answered.  
“What of Rosalyn?” queried Alistair.  
Wynne looked up at him. “She is in shock. I have seen this before. Whatever happened, she was there. Until she comes around we will have no explanation.”  
Alistair nodded and turned to look into the room. Rosalyn was sleeping still, her face pale, her hair streaming across the pillow. “Get rooms for another night; I’ll stay with her. Perhaps I can find something out.”  
“I agree. We should wait until she is all right. Zevran and I will see if we can find anything else out. Perhaps the chantry sisters know something,” Leliana declared. She placed her hand on Alistair’s arm in reassurance. “Let the dark haired barmaid know if you need something,” He nodded and she left with Zevran. Wynne excused herself and went to see about the rooms.  
He went back into the room and pulled a chair to the side of the bed and sat down. Pulling the cover off Rosalyn, he slowly removed her armor and her boots, piece by piece, until she was dressed in only her breeches and light shirt. He replaced the cover and began to remove his own armor until he wore only his shirt and breeches. Alistair looked down at her as she slept and prayed to the Maker that she would be fine. “Maker, bring her back to me,” he prayed silently, “she’s all I have.”  
Alistair stayed with her all day, leaving only for a few minutes to fetch more water and food and to take care of his personal needs. Late in the night, Rosalyn began to cry, a nightmare upon her. Alistair climbed into the bed and held her, soothing her fears until she slept again. Finally, exhaustion and worry got the better of him and he closed his eyes to sleep with her in his arms.

@@@@@

Morning came and Rosalyn woke feeling a heavy weight on her chest. She turned her head to find Alistair sleeping next to her, the lines of worry and care etched deeply on his face. His arm was around her waist, holding her close to him as he slept. She stretched slowly, so as not to wake him, easing the aches out of her muscles.  
Alistair felt her move and knew she was awake. He’d been awake for a while, not able to sleep with worry and the desire not to wake her. When she tried to turn over on her back, he moved his arm and opened his eyes. Propping himself up on his elbow, he looked down at her, “Feeling better?”  
“I think so. Where are we?” she asked.  
“The Gnawed Noble. You collapsed at the Alienage gate, remember? You had me so worried, Lyn. Are you all right?”  
“The gate?” Fear and sadness began to overwhelm her again as she remembered. The gate closed and locked, her family trapped, and the purge.  
Alistair pulled her close and wrapped his arms around her, and she buried her face in his neck, crying softly. When she calmed, he asked her, “What happened?”  
She sat up suddenly, not able to look at him. When he rose, she shook her head and started talking, staring into space. It was time for him to know the truth. She spoke, “There was a double wedding; Soris was a groom, I was one of the brides. I was supposed to marry Nelaros that day. We were celebrating and happy when Vaughan came with his friends and began to assault some of the girls. Shianni fought back when he grabbed her. She hit him over the head with a bottle before any of us realized who he was. He’d been there before and most girls knew to hide when he did but that day was…different.”  
Alistair sat up and let her talk, “Vaughan’s friends carried him away as he regained consciousness and we continued with our plans. That’s when I met Duncan. He was a guest of the Hahren and we were introduced. When the time came for the ceremony, we all took our places on the platform. The priest had just begun the rites when Vaughan arrived with a dozen men and surrounded us. He was having a party and needed female guests, he said. He took Shianni, Soris’ intended, Valora; Nola and Mya. When he came to me, I fought back and he knocked me out. I woke up in a storeroom at his estate.”  
Rosalyn reached over to the table by the bed, took the glass of water sitting there and drank deeply as she formed her next thoughts. “When I woke, some guards came to take Shianni and the others but Nola tried to run. They killed her and left her body lying on the floor as they drug the others out. They’d left me behind and began to tie my hands and feet. ‘Lord Vaughan likes her look and wants to save her for last,’ they said.” She hesitated, and then went on, “Suddenly Soris was there at the door with a sword and a bow. He slid the sword across the floor to me and I grabbed it. It didn’t take long to kill them.”  
“We worked our way through the house room by room, taking valuables as we went to make it look like a robbery, killing anyone who got in our way. We found Shianni but it was too late, he’d already had his way with her. Soris and I were enraged and attacked them, killing all three. We took Shianni and found the others but it was too late to save Nelaros. The guards had killed him as he stood watch for us. We ran for the Alienage as fast as we could, knowing the guards were on our trail. When we arrived, the girls took Shianni to the house and I answered for what Soris and I had done. The guards arrived and demanded the Hahren hand over the culprits so I stepped forward. They put me in irons to take me to the jail and later the gallows. It was then that Duncan conscripted me, saving my life. You know the rest.”  
Alistair sat with his back to the wall, listening as she told her tale. She had done what she needed to do to survive and he would have done the same, he knew. The cost of what she’d done was the loss of family, friends, and community. Now they suffered on her behalf and she was free. It was more than grief she felt; her soul was suffering.  
She moved to the edge of the bed and pulled on her boots, then picked up her armor and weapons. Before she opened the door, she turned to him, saying, “I’m not the girl you want, Alistair.” Opening the door, she left, closing it behind her. Alistair watched her go, and closed his eyes.

The Road to Haven

Three days into the journey to Haven, Rosalyn had not spoken to Alistair since their conversation at the Gnawed Noble. She hadn’t spoken to anyone much except Sten. She had taken to joining him at his campfire in the evenings, sitting and staring at the fire. The Qunari had attempted once to ask her what was darkening her soul but she refused. When anyone asked about her welfare, she always replied quietly, “Fine.” Sten recognized it for what it was and protected her from the prying.  
Alistair was miserable in his own right, keeping to himself most of the time. Several times Leliana had seen him watching Rosalyn but he never sought her out. His free time was spent caring for his armor and weapons, practicing his sword and shield and Templar talents, sparring with anyone who would volunteer. Wynne stood on the edge of camp one evening as he cast spell after spell in practice, draining all his strength before he slumped to the ground, exhausted. She shook her head sadly, cast a healing spell on him, and walked back to the camp.  
On the fourth night, a change occurred. Supper was served to all and each retreated to their respective places either at the main fire or their own. Rosalyn took her stew and bread to Sten’s fire but was surprised to see Zevran joining her. The elf sat down beside her with his bowl, offering her a large bottle of wine to drink from instead of her water skin.  
“It will do you no harm my Warden. Try it,” he coaxed. She took the bottle and drew a large drink. Zevran laughed at her eagerness, “I knew you’d like it. It is the best Antivan red I could find; a celebration of sorts.”  
“What are you celebrating?” she asked.  
“Ahhh. A most happy and fortunate event, my dear, it has been six months since we met.”  
Rosalyn looked sideways at him, “Why would you celebrate that?”  
Zevran laughed, “I plan on always celebrating that day from now on. I call it my liberation and you are my savior. I would be dead somewhere in a ditch no doubt if you had not stopped me from killing you. Now I am free to do or be anything I want. It is all thanks to you.”  
“I’d rather you not, Zevran.”  
“Tsk, tsk. You are too sad, my dear. Perhaps I should tell you a story then; of my youth in Antiva maybe?” She nodded and he told her of his life in Antiva City from the time he was born until he joined the Crows. It had been a hard and difficult life for him but he felt no malice towards those who had caused it. “They were forced to do what they had to survive. It is a lesson I learned early.”  
When he had finished, he poured her a cup of the wine and took her hand in his as he left her with a thought. “People like us are special, my dear Rosalyn, and we should always consider ourselves so. What happened to you in the Alienage was terrible; I would go back and spare you from it if I could. You acted as honorably as you could to protect your family and I am proud of you. That your actions may have caused the tragedy that befalls your family now is sad. But you have no way of knowing if that is the case. The new arl did this and it is he who should answer.” With that said he kissed her hand, bowed to her and left her staring into the fire.

@@@@@

Rosalyn began to come out of her shell after the talk with Zevran. She began to engage others in conversation and although still quiet, seemed to enjoy the company of others again. Zevran’s company mostly.  
He had taken to spending all his free time with her, walking with her while they traveled, helping her set up the camp and sitting with her at the fire. He did most everything with her except share her bed. It was not that he hadn’t offered, he offered several times a day; it was an open-ended request that she never acquiesced to. A request she was very close to accepting.  
Alistair was still not speaking to her. She had hurt him but even her own broken heart wouldn’t let her go back on what she had said. Now that he knew the truth about her, what she was, he was better off. She wasn’t the girl he needed; he deserved better than her and the sooner he knew it the better. Still, despite all her time with Zevran, Rosalyn missed Alistair’s company and counsel.  
On the sixth day they located the village of Haven high in the southern Frostback Mountains. Rosalyn was surprised when Alistair stepped up and took charge of the mission, issuing orders to everyone except her. “What do you want me to do?” she asked quietly.  
“You’re with me,” was all he said. She nodded and followed him into town with Wynne and Leliana. Sten, Morrigan and Zevran would scout the surrounding area for any additional dangers then would join them later. Zevran turned Rosalyn towards him before they left and kissed her, “Do not come to any harm, my dear. It would be most distressing.” She smiled weakly at him and nodded, watching him walk away. When she turned around, she saw Alistair looking at her, pain and disappointment in his eyes. She picked up her bow and followed him, her own heart breaking again.  
Haven was not the town it appeared to be; not that it appeared to be much to begin with. Run down, dirty, and shabby, it had seen better days. A sour faced, well-armed guard met them at the gate, “What are doing in Haven? We have no desire for troublemakers.”  
“We were just passing through,” Zevran lied.  
“You may trade at the store but be on your way quickly,” was all he said.  
They looked at each other, suspicion growing. “Cheery bunch,” remarked Wynne.  
“Let’s check out the store,” said Alistair and headed up the hill, not bothering to see if anyone followed. Wynne followed close behind.  
Leliana looked over at Rosalyn, “What did you say to him?”  
She hesitated for a moment, “You’ve heard the story by now, Leliana. I’m not what he needs or deserves. He deserves a girl he can be proud of, not an Alienage smuggler and murderer.”  
“So you think Zevran is a better choice then?”  
“I haven’t ‘chosen’ Zevran. He is like me, he understands.”  
“Oh he understands, all right. Right up until the morning when he leaves you. As for whether or not you are good enough for him, perhaps you should let Alistair decide that, hmmm? I think you underestimate him greatly.” She walked up the hill towards the store, leaving Rosalyn standing, her mind reeling with what she’d heard.  
When she caught up to the others, they were waiting for her. She shrugged and followed them into the store. The proprietor was a young thin man with a suspicious nature. He was generous enough while they traded but when Rosalyn came too close to the door to the back room, he became defensive, “What are you doing? Don’t go in there!” he had ordered.  
She knew a sneak when she saw one, “I was just looking.”  
“Well, look somewhere else!” was his reply.  
“What are you hiding?” she demanded.  
“Nothing!” he answered. “Just stay away from there!”  
Rosalyn looked at Alistair and he nodded slightly, reaching back to unhook his sword and shield. She stepped to the door and opened it, and was assailed by a foul odor emanating from the room.  
“I told you to stay out!” yelled the man, who produced a knife and ran at Rosalyn, who was caught off guard. The dagger sliced down into her upper left arm and she cried out but managed to lash out with her leg and knock her attacker off balance. A second kick to his shins knocked him down where Leliana finished him.  
“Lyn!” shouted Alistair as he rushed to her side. The cut was deep and she quickly grew weak with blood loss, sinking to her knees. Alistair eased her to a seated position with her back against him as Wynne examined the wound.  
“This will not be pleasant,” Wynne warned as she cleaned the wound. “No poison on the blade but as dirty as this place is, who knows what it had on it.” She wrapped the wound tight before casting a healing spell. “This could open up again. You should stick to the bow for a while.” Rosalyn nodded and Leliana left to see if anyone had heard the scuffle. Zevran checked the back room, reemerging very quickly. Wynne made to enter the room herself, but Zevran put out his hand to stop her. “It is….not pleasant, my dear. There are bodies in a foul state,” was all he would say. Wynne nodded and turned back to Rosalyn. Zevran bent and whispered into Alistair’s ear, receiving a nod in return.  
Alistair continued to hold Rosalyn tight as she sat between his legs on the floor. The position was uncomfortable for the both of them but neither wanted to move. He looked up at Zevran and Wynne, who went outdoors to scout the area. Finally he spoke, “You…you are all right? The wound, and…the other day?”  
She looked down at the floor, softly answering, “Yes.”  
He nodded, “I had hoped so. It was…traumatic.” He stood up, helping her to stand. “Rosalyn, about the other day…”  
“Please, Alistair, don’t. You don’t deserve me. What if they make you king? You would keep me as your lover, make me your wife? That can’t happen and you know it! I’m not worthy of you!”  
Something snapped inside him and he took her face and held it between his hands so tightly that his gauntlets scratched her skin. “Do not presume to tell me who I can and cannot love, Rosalyn Tabris! Only I decide that, do you understand!” He released her, stomping out the door.  
It wasn’t until later that she realized what he had told her then; he loved her.

@@@@@

Outside was chaos as soon as she emerged. A mage and four villagers attacked them viciously and without concern for their own safety. Alistair had been right when he said the cult would defend themselves at all cost. Once defeated, the group headed up the hill toward the chantry building where singing was heard.  
Rosalyn took out a mage and bowman at the top of the hill while the others dealt with the warriors. Wynne noticed Rosalyn’s arm bleeding again and stopped her to treat it. “Why do you treat the boy so?” the mage asked her out of Alistair’s’ hearing.  
“I’m not good enough for him, Wynne. I’ll only hurt him and he knows it but he still wants me,” she said sadly.  
Wynne shook her head, “If only our lives were long enough for such foolishness to be worthwhile. You may not be good enough, but there is joy in everything, my dear. Try to find a little. He has.”  
“I’ll try,” she promised half-heartedly. They walked up the hill to where the others were waiting.  
“Okay?” Alistair asked tentatively as they joined him.  
“Yes, I think so. I’ll stay back more now,” she answered. His hand came up and touched her arm, faltering, and she looked up at him and smiled weakly, receiving a slight one in return.  
“Let’s go,” he said and she nodded.  
They entered the chantry building to find a group of well-armed worshippers and their priest. After welcoming them to the service, he reproached them for poking their noses into other people’s business then ordered his people to attack. They were fierce opponents who refused to give up and fought until there were none left. Rosalyn and Leliana searched the bodies for valuables while Alistair and Wynne checked the adjoining rooms for any others. They discovered a hidden door and managed to open it.  
Brother Genetivi was lying on the floor, battered and bruised, his foot swollen to twice its normal size. Wynne bent down and applied as much magic as she dared. With the battles they had gone through so far, she would need as much mana as she could spare. Leliana bandaged the man.  
“The Urn, we are so close! Take me up the mountain and I will help you,” he gasped. Alistair nodded and they helped him up the mountain to a locked door. “The priest has a medallion that acts as a key. He never takes it off.”  
“This one?” asked Rosalyn as she produced a silver necklace from her pocket.  
“That’s it! Let’s see, it should fit like this…” he said, more to himself than anyone else.  
The heavy door swung open to reveal a huge room of an ancient temple. They entered warily, knowing there would be more cult members to fight along the way. Genetivi begged off following due to his injuries. Rosalyn gave him a dagger and bade him wait in hiding for his safety.  
The journey from then on was hazardous. Cult members waited around every corner, heavily armed and often with dragon spawn to help them. After hours of strenuous battle, they emerged in a large cavern to be met by Father Kolgrim, the head of the cult of Andraste.  
“Stop! You will go no further!” he commanded.  
“Stand aside if you want to live,” said Rosalyn.  
“You have defiled our temple. You have spilled the blood of the faithful, and slaughtered our young. Why have you come here?”  
“To make sure you hurt no one ever again,” was her answer.  
The ensuing fight was vicious and swift. A priest he may have been but he was definitely a warrior, fighting with a vigor they hadn’t seen in anyone there yet. After a fierce battle, he and his followers lay dead on the floor of the cave. Rosalyn could feel they were still a long way from completing their task.

@@@@@

They made their way up the mountain to a ruin at the top, avoiding the lair of a high dragon along the way. At the top lay a temple cut into the surrounding rock in a style that was different than the temple below. They entered; their weapons at the ready.  
At the end of the hall stood a warrior, nearly as old as the temple itself, beckoning them to approach. Rosalyn looked up at Alistair, who nodded and led the way. “I bid you welcome, pilgrims,” he said.  
Rosalyn stepped forward, “I am here for the Urn of Sacred Ashes.”  
“You have come to honor Andraste, and you shall, if you prove yourself worthy,” he told them.  
“I have to fight you?”  
The Guardian shook his head, “It is not my place to decide your worth. That is for the Gauntlet. If you are found worthy, you will see the Urn and be allowed to take a pinch of the ashes for yourself. If not…”  
All right. Let’s do this,” she said.  
“Before you go,” the Guardian said, ”there is suffering in your past, yours and the suffering of others. You didn’t reach Shianni in time to prevent her from being raped by Vaughan and his men. Do you feel you failed Shianni?”  
Rosalyn swallowed, her voice shaking, “I should have run faster.”  
He smiled down at her, “That is what I wished to know.” Alistair caught her hand in his and squeezed, not letting go. The Guardian turned to him next. “Alistair, knight and Warden…you wonder if things would have been different if you were with Duncan on the battlefield; you think things would have been better had he survived.”  
Alistair shook with emotion and Rosalyn held his hand tightly. He pulled her hand up and held it in both of his as if she were an anchor. The Guardian’s eyebrows rose at his movement then his eyes shifted to Rosalyn as she gazed up at Alistair. He smiled as he understood. “Yes,” Alistair finally said, “if Duncan had been saved, things would have been different. If I’d had the chance….” Rosalyn shook her head and he nodded his agreement. It was not to be. If he’d had that chance, they would have been dead too.  
The guardian turned his gaze on each of the companions, bringing their pain and fear to the surface, making them face it. When he had finished he smiled at them, “The door is open. May you find what you seek.” In a shimmer of light, he was gone.  
The first leg consisted of a set of riddles that had to be solved to continue to the next leg. Wynne was best at this, riddles being a favorite of hers. Once answered, the group proceeded to the next chamber, only to be stopped.  
Shianni stood in the doorway, smiling at Rosalyn. “Hey,” she said.  
Rosalyn looked at the others, all of whom seemed to be preoccupied. “Shianni?”  
She smiled, “Who else? It’s good to see you.” She paused, “Do you remember us, where you came from, and what some of us still face every day?”  
“Yes. I’ll always remember, Shianni.”  
“What happened wasn’t your fault, Roz. You were caught in the situation, just like the rest of us. Don’t keep dwelling on it. You have a great task to complete. I want you to have this.” Shianni handed her an amulet. “Seeing you gives me hope…for all of us.”  
Rosalyn looked down at the amulet shining brightly in her hand; she looked up again to find Shianni gone and her mother standing there, with Nelaros at her side. She let out a gasp as she recognized them. They never spoke to her but she knew their thoughts, they were proud of her and loved her. Tears streamed down her face as she stood there, even after they had gone.  
When the way was clear, the others slowly began to move on. Alistair turned back to Rosalyn but she just stood there in place. When he approached her, she looked up and said to no one, “Thank you.” He smiled and together they entered the next room.  
The next room pitted all four companions against their doppelgangers. The fight was intense but Leliana discovered they each a better chance if they fought someone other than themselves. Alistair went against Wynne, Wynne against Leliana, Leliana against Rosalyn and Rosalyn fought Alistair. The battle was the most intense they had faced and Rosalyn was sure she would fail. But her rogue skills were no match for the slower Alistair double and he was soon down.  
“You aren’t thinking of making a habit of that, are you?” Alistair asked her.  
Rosalyn looked up at him mischievously, “Not unless you give me a reason.”  
He laughed, looking down at her, “Remind me not to.” His arm came around her shoulders and she reached up and squeezed his hand.  
The next test would prove to be the hardest. They found themselves in front of a chasm whose edges were covered with inset tiles. Wynne discovered by accident that standing on the tiles caused pieces of a bridge to appear over the chasm. It was decided that Rosalyn would be the one to cross and after hours of trial and error, the right combination was discovered. Miraculously, the bridge became whole once she had crossed and all four were able to cross it.  
They passed through a long hallway and entered a large room with a stairway at the far end. At the top of the stairs, a statue of Andraste stood with a decorative urn standing in front.  
Leliana let out a gasp as she realized what they had found, “Andraste’s ashes! We found them!” As she stepped forward, a wall of fire appeared across the room, preventing them from coming closer. A small altar stood in front of them, covered in writing. "Cast off the trappings of worldly life and cloak yourself in the Goodness of Spirit. King and Slave, Lord and beggar; be born anew in the Maker's sight." it said. They looked at each other and shrugged, trying to make sense of it all. Suddenly Rosalyn knew.  
“Take off your clothes and armor,” she told them.  
“What!” exclaimed Alistair.  
“Take off your clothes. I think it means we are to shed our worldly goods and come to the ashes as we truly are.”  
He took off his sword and shield and started stripping out of his armor. “Okay, but someone will have to help me with all the buckles.”  
After a few minutes, everyone was down to their small clothes and Rosalyn had finished unbuckling the last buckle of Alistair’s armor. “I really should have thought twice about my combat specialty. This stuff is heavy and takes too long to get off and on.” He dropped his breast plate and removed his breeches and shirt, whispering to her, “You know, this isn’t how I figured I’d get you out of your clothes.”  
Rosalyn blushed, uncomfortably, “You’ve thought about me? Without my…?”  
He leaned in, “Yes,” he answered her, his voice husky. “But right now….”  
Rosalyn nodded. “Yes. Definitely later.” She stopped long enough to look him up and down approvingly, causing him to blush with embarrassment. “Here goes nothing.” She walked slowly towards the fire and stopped, putting her hand out to the flames. Feeling no heat, she walked into the flames, holding her breath. She reached the other side and looked down at her body and there were no burns. She looked up at Alistair and smiled as he followed her through the flames, with Wynne and Leliana right behind.  
The Guardian appeared again to meet them, “You have proven yourself worthy, you may approach the altar and take a pinch of ashes for yourself.” With that said, he disappeared and Rosalyn looked down to find herself dressed in her armor again, her weapons at her side. Alistair and the others were also dressed in their armor.  
She turned and faced the steps, her heart beating fast. She climbed them slowly, each one feeling like she was peeling a layer from her life. Reaching the top, she felt her soul was bared and all the anger had been removed. She opened the urn and took a pinch of the ashes, placing them in a small bottle. Looking up at the statue, she whispered, “Thank you,” and swore she heard a reply. Bowing, she retreated, joining the others as they made their way out of the temple.

The Road to Redcliffe

Rosalyn took point on the journey back to Redcliffe, touching her pocket every other step to check if the ashes were still there. She hadn’t spoken much since she left the mountain temple, but then no one had, and when she returned to the camp, she discovered she had been healed of all her wounds as had the others. Wynne and Leliana walked as if they were in a pleasant trance most of the time while Alistair had disappeared for hours once the camp was set up, returning with red rimmed eyes. He had retired to his tent soon after washing his face.  
Morrigan, Sten and Zevran were at a loss to explain the unusual behavior of the other four and talked amongst themselves at length. Sten finally managed to speak to Wynne, who told him enough that he simply nodded and informed the others that they were fine. Epiphanies were not unheard of amongst the Qunari and he respected them. “They will return to us better than before,” he said.  
On the second night of their return journey, Rosalyn walked alone along a lake near the campsite. So much had happened to her in the months since she had left the Alienage and she had not taken stock. A broken, sad girl had left on what was to be her wedding day to be replaced by a confident, strong woman; a Grey Warden and a warrior. Adaia was proud, she knew, and Rosalyn said a silent prayer to the Maker for the vision of her mother and her betrothed. Her hand came up to the amulet Shianni’s shade had given her, hanging next to her Warden’s Oath pendant and she fingered Nelaros’ ring. “Perhaps I can do this,” she thought, “Perhaps I can win.”  
A shadow crossed her mind and she turned to find Alistair standing a few feet away, watching her with a look she had never seen. “He’s changed too,” she thought, and wasn’t surprised to see him nod. She smiled and thought, “With you.” He walked forward and took her in his arms, holding her as if it was the last time and Rosalyn clung to him, fearing it was.  
“I saw Duncan,” he whispered into her hair, “and my father.”  
“I saw Shianni, Nelaros, and my mother,” she replied.  
He pulled back to look at her face. “They told me they were proud of me and that I would succeed.”  
“Me too.”  
Alistair buried his face in her hair again. “We will do this,” he whispered intently, “together.”  
“Together,” she whispered back.

@@@@@

Much had changed in Redcliffe during the time they had been gone on their quest. The army was assembling; the fields surrounding the castle filled with campfires and tents. The group was hailed as they passed the campsites, their identities and intent known to all. Offers of drinks, meals and even a marriage proposal or two were made to them. Alistair looked down at Rosalyn and smiled at the last, enjoying her embarrassed look.  
Teagan was ready for them, standing at the gate as they approached. Rosalyn reached into her pocket and pulled out the bottle of ashes and handed it to him. His breath caught as he realized what he held; he felt so unworthy. Looking down at her, he nodded and led the way into the castle, to Eamon’s bedchamber.  
The mage healers made swift application of the ashes, creating a potion which they slowly dribbled down the Arl’s throat. He began to stir and cough, finally opening his eyes weakly. “Drink, husband,” encouraged Isolde, holding his head as he gulped the liquid down. When he was finished, he looked up at her and smiled. Alistair took Rosalyn’s hand and squeezed, not letting go.  
Servants showed them to rooms that had been prepared for them on Teagan’s orders. “You will need your rest after your long journey, I think. A small thank you for all you’ve done.”  
As they walked to their rooms, Alistair held Rosalyn back, guiding her into a vacant sitting room and shutting the door. He had not pressed his attentions on the journey home; they were too preoccupied and exhausted from their ordeal. Now he took her in his arms and kissed her with all the passion he held. Rosalyn returned his kiss just as ardently, opening to him fully. When they parted, Alistair continued to hold her close, “I…wanted to thank you…for all you’ve done for the Arl’s family. After all the tragedy and death we’ve seen, I’m grateful to you that we could save this much. I owed it to him for all he’s done for me.”  
“He’s your family, isn’t he?’ she asked.  
“I suppose he is and always has been. Not that I ever gave him a chance. I’ll have to give that a shot.” He smiled that smile she loved so well and Rosalyn melted in his arms.  
“You are so welcome,” she told him, bringing his face down to hers.  
Two hours later, Eamon stood in his hall with Teagan on one side and Isolde on the other; thanking his knights and the Wardens for his recovery, the defense of his home, and for saving his family. Each of the companions was given a special gift; Rosalyn was given a shield to honor her contribution while Alistair was presented with a ring engraved with the Redcliffe crest. Eamon embraced them both, and then expressed what was troubling him, “The situation we find ourselves in is troubling. Loghain has turned over half the nobles against us. It will be difficult to find a way past this predicament.”  
“Surely when they see all that he has done…” Rosalyn began.  
“I was there when he announced his intentions, brother. He is mad with power,” exclaimed Teagan.  
Eamon shook his head, “Then we will have to work fast if we wish to succeed. There is only one way to do it…someone with a claim stronger than Anora’s must come forward.”  
Teagan turned to look at his older brother with disbelief, “You intend to put Alistair forward as Cailan’s successor?”  
“Why not? You and I can make a claim through marriage but it would be weak. Alistair’s claim is through blood. He is Maric’s son. That makes him the rightful king of Ferelden.”  
“It would work,” added Rosalyn, nodding in agreement.  
“So what I want makes no difference,” interjected an angry Alistair as he looked down at her.  
Eamon turned his gaze to the man he all but called son, “You have a duty to your country, Alistair. You would deny us a ruler for your own desires and pursuits?” He glanced at Rosalyn, making her feel very uncomfortable.  
“I made a vow to the Grey Wardens, my lord. It is not a vow I would foreswear, country or no country. You know this.”  
The Arl’s face became red as he stared Alistair down, “Then Loghain wins and the country dies if you don’t. Is that what you want?”  
Alistair looked down at the floor then raised his head up to look Eamon in the eye, “No, my lord,” he said quietly.  
“Very well. We know what must be done. Pursue the treaties and recruit the allies. I will continue to recall my forces and build the army here.” As the group disbanded to return to their duties, he called out, “Alistair, I would see you and Rosalyn in my study as soon as you are able. We have matters to discuss.” Both of them nodded as the Arl left the hall.  
Alistair stood in place for a moment then turned to Rosalyn, “I need some air,” he said and headed for the stairs to the upper floors.  
She gave him some time to cool his heels before she went after him. He was where she thought he’d be, at the top of the tower; looking out over the land he called his home. “We should head to the study now,” she said.  
“I don’t want to be king,” he declared, still looking out at the land below him.  
“I know,” she said.  
He turned to her, “Yet you would make me king, wouldn’t you.” It was not a question but a statement of fact.  
“I really don’t know.”  
Alistair shook his head, “Of course you would! You would do what’s right for the greater good, Lyn. You would make me king to save your country, even if it meant making me and yourself unhappy for the rest of our already short lives.”  
His words stunned her in their truth. He knew her too well and he was right; if it came down to her or saving their country, she would make him king and take whatever consequences came her way, including sacrificing their relationship. “I…” she started, stopping when she saw his expression.  
“So I’m right,” he said, “I had hoped I wasn’t.”  
Rosalyn closed her eyes, searching for the words she wanted to say. When she opened them, he was gone.

@@@@@

She followed him to the study a few minutes later to find him already in deep discussion with Eamon and Teagan on their next matter, the disposition of Jowan. Eamon felt his judgment clouded as the victim while Teagan insisted that the mage be sent to the gallows immediately despite all the help he had given during Eamon’s illness. Alistair counseled that they should send the man back to Kinloch Hold. There he would be judged by those who had experience in matters such as this and could dispose of the man humanely and quickly.  
Rosalyn entered quietly during the exchange and stood against the wall. Eamon motioned his guards to bring Jowan in.  
“Jowan, what you have done is not at issue. By your own admission, you are guilty of poisoning me and setting into motion a series of events that could have ultimately cost the lives of many more than have already died. What do you have to say for yourself?”  
The mage was still, speaking only, “Nothing, my lord.”  
Eamon noticed Rosalyn’s presence and turned to her, “Tell me Warden Rosalyn, what say you of this matter? What shall we do with the mage?”  
She thought a moment then spoke, “Jowan seems earnest in his desire to repent, my lord.”  
“An interesting point,” said the Arl. “What would you have me do?”  
Again she paused, looking over at Alistair. His face was impassive and he would not look at her; she could not read him through the taint as he was throwing up blocks. Thinking for a moment longer, she announced, “I ask that you release him into my custody.”  
Alistair whirled around to face her, “You can’t possibly be saying what I think you’re saying!”  
Eamon’s tone became angry, “Are you sure this is the way you want to proceed?”  
“We need all able bodies to help us fight the Blight, my lord. The Wardens do not hesitate to take anyone who wishes to join us just because of their personal beliefs. We take cutpurses, rapists, soldiers, and thieves. Even blood mages like Jowan and murderers like me are welcome if they are willing to live by the oath.”  
The Arl’s eyebrows rose at her admission. He had not known how she came to join the order. “I am…unwilling to allow it, Warden.”  
“Then under the authority of the crown, I conscript Jowan into the Grey Wardens,” she declared.  
Eamon shook his head, “As you wish, Warden. Jowan, you are released into the custody of the Grey Wardens until such time as you can properly join their order. Maker have mercy on your soul.” With that said, the Arl left the room, followed by a disappointed and angry Teagan.  
Alistair stood still, staring at Rosalyn as if he didn’t recognize her. Suddenly he turned, went to the door and opened it, calling out to Zevran who was waiting outside, “Take this man and see he is outfitted properly. Bodahn should have what he needs. Armor, a staff and small weapons for a start; see that he gets the proper training.” Zevran nodded, understanding him well. He turned to Jowan, commanding, “Go with him, and do as he says.” Jowan’s eyes grew large, “He will not hurt you,” he added as Jowan left the room, following Zevran as ordered.  
Left alone, Alistair turned to Rosalyn, who still stood by the wall. His manner was brusque, his voice tense, “Why?”  
“We need him, Alistair,” she answered, trying to keep her voice even, her tone convincing, “He is useful.”  
Alistair’s patience with her snapped, “A sword is useful, a bow is useful! Even bloody Zevran and Morrigan for all their annoyances are useful! A blood mage is not useful, Rosalyn! He is dangerous!”  
She winced as he yelled at her. She had never seen him so. Quietly and firmly she said, “I stand by my decision; I will not go back on my word.”  
“Then Maker help us all if you are wrong,” he warned.  
“If I am wrong, I will kill him myself, of that you can be sure,” was her curt reply. She turned and left the room.  
Alistair stood still, watching the woman he loved walk out of the room, wondering how they had come to this.

The Return to Ostagar

The companions spent a few more days resting and preparing for the next leg of their journey. Leliana and Zevran had taken Jowan under their wings, outfitting him per Alistair’s request in Grey Warden mage armor, a staff and small weapons. Jowan had never used anything other than small dagger for eating, so Rosalyn saw to his weapons training personally, teaching him the bow and small daggers. “Your magic is a powerful tool, Jowan, but mana can be depleted. In the event that you are surrounded or overrun, you will need something to fall back on.” The mage nodded and worked as hard as he could to learn as much as he could in the short time they had. Rosalyn was pleased to find that while he had far to go with hand to hand combat training, he was a natural bowman with a powerful draw and a good eye; he would be an asset to the group eventually.  
Alistair had not spoken to Rosalyn since their confrontation in the study. Eamon had kept him busy, planning and strategizing, often until the wee hours of the morning. Rosalyn had left the castle after their argument and had not returned for the evening meal, forcing him to make her excuses to their host. She took to sleeping at Sten’s fire partly to avoid Alistair and partly to protect Jowan from any who might harm him, knowing he was a blood mage.  
Eamon had not questioned why she was absent, but the reasons were clear, there was disharmony in the Warden ranks. It was not lost on him how deeply Alistair felt about Rosalyn, nor how she felt about him. He knew they had not spoken since Jowan’s conscription and that she had all but moved out of the castle, returning only for meals. While he was sorry for Alistair’s predicament, he was not sorry the Wardens had fallen out. The relationship would pose problems down the road.  
Two days later a messenger arrived from one of the banns in the southern reaches of the country. The horde had been spotted moving west out of Ostagar, leaving the fortress mostly unguarded. Eamon suggested they scout the area to search for survivors and possibly retrieve Cailan’s body. He also hinted that there were documents either on Cailan’s person or in the royal arms chest that needed to be retrieved. Alistair volunteered for the mission as did Wynne.  
Rosalyn was not consulted on the matter, finding out from Sten that it had been decided. Alistair had chosen Wynne, Zevran and Sten to accompany him, leaving her out. While it hurt that he did not ask her, she understood his reasoning; he was still very angry.  
The next morning, before dawn, the chosen group gathered in the bailey to depart. Rosalyn was there, packed and armed, standing by the gate. Alistair’s eyes narrowed as he saw her, not knowing what to say. He had left her out of the planning for the mission and knew he would have to answer for it. “Why are you here?” he asked her tersely.  
“I was planning on accompanying you, if you had no objections. If you do then I’m still coming along,” she replied briskly.  
“You couldn’t bring your new ‘friend’ along?” he snapped.  
Rosalyn shook her head, “No, Alistair. It will not be like that between us. There is too much at stake.”  
He ran his hands through his hair, trying to gather his thoughts as they went spinning out of control. One side of him wanted to grab her and shake her, make her listen to reason. The other side wanted to take her in his arms and find the nearest bed, not letting her leave it for a week. “Maker! What is the matter with me?” he said out loud.  
Her eyebrows rose at his statement and he turned red, realizing he had said it out loud. “Excuse me?” she asked, puzzled.  
Alistair shrugged the question off, and turned to Zevran. “Stay here. Make sure the mage is ready when we return.” Zevran opened his mouth to reply but closed it with a pleading look from Rosalyn. Turning to her, Alistair said, “Let’s go then,” and the group made their way out of the castle to the road.  
Traveling to the fortress wasn’t difficult as the roads were deserted as well as the homes and villages. Rosalyn knew the people had had time enough to flee the horde before it arrived and it seemed most had. Shelter was readily available to them along the way in the abandoned farms and houses they encountered.  
Each night they would gather around a communal fire, sharing whatever food they had scavenged or shot during the day. Wynne would bring out her flute and play while they sat and Sten was persuaded once or twice to tell them about his home in Seheron.  
Alistair sat across from Rosalyn, watching her as Sten talked. Her eyes were sad as she stared into the fire, not listening to the story being told. He reached out with his senses for the first time since the incident in Eamon’s study. There was pain, sadness, and despair. She had given up; believing all was lost to her. He had done that by pushing her away. Her misery became his.  
The next day they arrived at the fortress to find it still occupied by Darkspawn. The voices in Rosalyn and Alistair’s head were stronger than either had ever felt. There was more here than just a token force.  
Alistair retained charge of the group, “Let’s head to the old camp. Cailan’s arms chest should be there.” Rosalyn nodded her agreement. She had come out of her funk as they approached the gates.  
They fought their way to the Grey Warden camp and Rosalyn paused for a moment, remembering her short time there. The fire where they had sat with the king was still there, a large mass of charcoal covered in snow. In the corner, next to a crumbling wall was where she had laid her pallet, and where she and Duncan had had their goodbye. She had known he would die; she did not know how, and their love making had been intense and quick. Rosalyn remembered how she had felt when he had left her to continue his preparations for battle, she had been on fire from his touch and sleep had eluded her. She also remembered the crystal blue eyes that watched over her from the dark; Alistair’s eyes.  
Alistair remembered too and allowed her time to reflect before approaching her. “I…I think we should move on,” he said.  
Rosalyn nodded, not looking up at him. It still hurt to do that.  
They located the royal arms chest, spared from a fire that had consumed the enclosure. Sten used his sword to break the lid, and Alistair and Rosalyn searched the contents. The last item pulled from the chest was a beautiful sword made of dragonbone, covered in runes. “My father’s sword,” said Alistair reverently. “Cailan said he was going to use it to kill the Archdemon.”  
“You should wear it; it is yours now, I think,” remarked Wynne. She reached over and unbuckled his sword, handing it to Sten who removed it from the belt. Wynne threaded his belt through Maric’s scabbard then helped Alistair put it on. He drew the sword out of the scabbard and admired its lightness, smiling as he remembered the man who had carried it. Rosalyn watched them from a distance and smiled to herself at his reaction.  
The causeway across the chasm was littered with bodies and broken weapons. Sten expressed concerned that it might not be strong enough, but it was the only way across. They proceeded slowly.  
The large statue of the forgotten warrior had been knocked down from the impact of a projectile. Rosalyn remembered it happening as she and Alistair had crossed the causeway on their way to the Tower of Ishal. In its place was a more horrifying sight.  
Alistair stopped dead in his tracks, looking up at his brother, strung up on poles with arrows sticking out of him. Death had come swiftly for the young king, the only mercy he had been granted. Wynne recited a prayer as she beheld the body while Sten bowed his head in reverence. When they had finished they stood back to allow the Wardens some privacy.  
Rosalyn turned to watch Alistair, feeling the pain as he stood there. “Alistair?” she asked quietly.  
He turned to look at her, tears in his eyes. He crossed the distance between them and gathered her up in his arms, his anguish and pain overwhelming him. She wrapped her arms around him, holding him tightly, and time stopped for a while.  
Breaking the connection, he spoke, simply and softly, “We need to talk…soon. Will you?”  
“Yes,” she said, just as softly. “It’s time, I think.”  
Taking her hand as he had the last time they were there, they crossed the causeway to the Tower of Ishal.

@@@@@

The group found themselves in a heated fight as soon as they had crossed the causeway to the other side. Grunts, genlocks and hurlocks were all in attendance, attacking them on sight. Rosalyn and Wynne hung back, lobbing arrows and magic at them while Alistair and Sten cleared a path. The battle was fierce, taking over an hour.  
The conjurer had watched them as they crossed the causeway and was waiting for them on the other side. Alistair led them through the next melee, killing three grunts as Rosalyn and the others took out the rest. As Alistair led the chase, the conjurer cast one last spell towards them, and then disappeared into the trees beyond.  
Alistair suddenly discovered a new energy source within him and began to fight as never before. When he reached the door to the tower, he was surrounded by a half dozen Darkspawn and fought as a man possessed. Rosalyn changed to her blades and rushed to his aid, only to find the Darkspawn attackers dead and Alistair unscathed. “What are you doing?” she asked him angrily. Realizing her tone was not what she wanted him to hear, she lowered her voice. “Are you trying to kill yourself?”  
He whirled around to face her, bloodlust still in his eyes. When he saw her, his weapons dropped to the ground as he came forward to grab her around the waist and pull her towards him. His lips came down on hers in a crushing kiss that shook her as none ever had. Hands roamed over her body and she felt buckles coming loose on her armor and her clothing ripping as he tore at it. He was going to take her right there on the ground in front of the group.  
Panicked, Rosalyn cried out, fighting him, “Sten! Help me!” The Qunari ran to her, prying her out of Alistair’s arms. Wynne shepherded her away to safety while Sten dealt with Alistair.  
“Templar!” he commanded. “Return to me!” He took Alistair by the shoulders and shook him violently. Rosalyn looked in his eyes and knew it for what it was; he was under a spell of some sort. Reaching out with her senses, she touched his mind through the taint, calling out to him. Slowly he began to return and become aware of his surroundings.  
When he was satisfied that Alistair had come out of the trance, Sten released him, then bent to retrieve his sword and shield from the ground. Alistair took them blindly, having eyes only for Rosalyn, who stood before him, her armor unbuckled and her shirt and breeches torn. Confusion crossed his mind, then comprehension. He had attacked her. “Rosalyn…I…” his voice trailed off and he collapsed onto steps of the tower, his head in his hands as his whole body shook.  
Rosalyn went to him, but was stopped by Sten, who shook his head. “I have seen this before, Kadan. It is called al-nasra, a blood trance. It is rare amongst the Qunari but those who practice it are valued highly as powerful warriors.”  
Wynne had moved to Alistair’s side and examined him. “He is unharmed but there is a lingering trace of magic here.” She cast a healing spell to insure he was well.  
“I have never heard of such a thing. al-nasra, you called it? What is the name in the common tongue?” asked Rosalyn.  
“Berserker,” said Alistair’s voice, shaky but clear. The others looked at him in surprise. “It is a talent long untaught by the Templars. It was abandoned centuries ago as being too unreliable.” He looked up at Rosalyn, his eyes finally returning to their soft blue, “But I don’t know how to do it and wouldn’t if I could. Only the dwarves still practice it.”  
Rosalyn walked to where he sat and put her hand on his head, stroking his hair. He turned from her in shame as he remembered what he had tried to do. “Sten, take Wynne and see if you can find some fresh water and check for signs of any other Darkspawn.” They nodded and took off on their errand, leaving her alone with Alistair.  
She reached down and gathered the pieces of her shirt together, tying them into some order, then rebuckled her breastplate and arm guards. Looking down at him, she handed him her water skin and he drank deeply, pouring some on his head to cool himself before handing it back to her. “Better?” she asked.  
“No,” he replied. “I took advantage of you, Lyn. I am so sorry.” He hung his head, not able to look at her. “Did I hurt you?”  
“You were under the influence of the conjurer, Alistair. I am shaken but okay. It was not you who did this.”  
He rose and walked away from her a few steps before he turned to face her. “No, it wasn’t me that attacked you. But Maker’s Breath, I wanted it!” he said. He turned away from her and walked to the edge of the precipice and looked out at the valley below, leaving her alone.

@@@@@

Sten and Wynne rejoined them a little while later, with full water skins and no sign of Darkspawn. Alistair returned to the group, but was still quiet. Rosalyn looked at him for a few moments then turned to the others, “Let’s do this,” she said, taking charge. They entered the tower to search for the conjurer and any survivors.  
They were met by several grunts and hurlocks, all prepared for them. Alistair and Sten took the lead and attacked the grunts while Rosalyn and Wynne took out the bowmen and a sorcerer. Alistair fought tentatively, as if he was afraid; the conjurer’s spell had worn off but the emotional effects were still present.  
With the room cleared, they took stock of their wounds. Sten had been watching Alistair while he fought and was disappointed in his performance. “Templar, you are failing.”  
Alistair turned to the Qunari and said nothing. Sten continued, “The saarebas has no more hold on you. Do not allow him to win this battle by your failure to fight well. You are a better warrior than that.”  
“How would you know? You do not give me the time of day most of the time,” Alistair replied, disgusted.  
Sten shook his head at the man’s foolishness, “Because I do not have to. If you were in need of training like the saarebas from Redcliffe, then it is my duty to see you get it. I do not have to train you. You know how to fight. Do it.”  
Alistair had never heard anyone give such a compliment in his life. He looked up at the warrior, his confidence rising, “Yes, I do. Thank you, Sten.”  
“You are welcome…Templar. Shall we introduce that saarebas to our swords?”  
“Yes, I think we should,” agreed Alistair. Rosalyn and Wynne listened to the exchange and smiled as they followed them into the next room.  
The next room was filled with Darkspawn grunts and proved easier to defeat but there was still no sign of the conjurer who attacked Alistair. Rosalyn and Sten scouted ahead while Alistair and Wynne searched for any traces of survivors. They met up in the next room, where Sten had discovered a large hole that had been dug out of the stone floor, leading underground. Rosalyn sensed the presence of Darkspawn in the pit as was confirmed by Alistair.  
“I don’t want to imagine where that goes,” he said to no one in particular. Rosalyn smiled at his comment but could tell he was still deeply troubled by his experience with the conjurer’s spell.  
“Then down we must go,” she replied and led the way, her daggers drawn.  
Descending into the cavern below was like entering another world to them. Spider webs and traps were everywhere, so Wynne cast several fire spells to burn them out, following them with ice storms to cool the flames. Eventually the path was clear, so they continued on their way, steering clear of the shadows.  
They emerged from the tunnel onto the field where the battle had been fought. The field was littered with the remnants of the battle, swords, shields and dismembered bodies were everywhere. Looking out toward the forest beyond, Rosalyn spied the conjurer, standing alone, watching them as they entered the field. Its hands came up with a swirl of light and power and she felt a wave wash over her, just before the conjurer disappeared from sight.  
Rosalyn closed her eyes and saw the battle as it had happened, forces overwhelmed with no hope of rescue and the futileness of the fight; visions so real she could touch them. She shook her head at the surge of emotions that had begun to take over and stagger a little from the sheer weight of it all pressing down on her. “No!” she screamed, “I will not….NO!!”  
Alistair ran to her side, his hand under her arm to support her as she fell to her knees, clutching her head in agony. “Lyn! Listen to me! You must fight it! You must!” he told her. She shook her head, whether to agree or disagree with him, he couldn’t tell.  
She came to her feet, drawing her daggers and advancing on him. There was no light in her eyes as she struck out at him, and he dodged her attack at the last second, narrowly missing her strike at his shoulder. She was too fast for him to completely evade her as she struck out with her foot, knocking him off balance. He pulled his shield forward to block and summoned his Templar powers, yelling, “Wynne! Stay back!” lest she be caught in his attack. Sten grabbed Wynne’s arm and pushed her behind him, protecting her with his body. Alistair threw all he had into a spell and drained the conjurer’s mana, then cast Holy Smite in the direction of the conjurer. He used his shield to knock Rosalyn back to stop her.  
As quickly as it had taken her, the spell was broken and she collapsed to the ground in a heap. Alistair ran forward and was down on his knees, cradling her in his arms. His senses told him she was there, but he felt nothing but confusion from her. Slowly she returned to reality, sitting up and opening her eyes. “What…?” she asked confused. “I was…Maker!” She sank back down as she remembered what had happened. She had attacked Alistair.  
Alistair gathered her up in his arms as her body shook, rubbing her arms to warm her and bring her out of the shock. “Shhh,” he crooned, “It’s all right.” Wynne came forward and checked her for wounds, casting a small healing spell to relax and warm her.  
When she had finally calmed, she drew back and looked into his eyes. The understanding of what she felt was there, this was what he had felt earlier. He nodded, knowing her thoughts and helped her to her feet. Without warning she drew her bow and turned to the field, nocking an arrow as she did.  
The conjurer had appeared at the far end of the field, and was watching them as they stood, waiting for their reaction. Rosalyn aimed and shot, the arrow flying straight and true, striking the Darkspawn in the chest and staggering it. The conjurer cried out its anger at the wound and raised its hands, casting a spell.  
Dead soldiers rose from where they had fallen long before and raised their weapons to fight again. “Fan out!” yelled Alistair. He and Sten moved to the front while Rosalyn and Wynne moved back, using a bow and magic.  
The dead came in wave after wave, backing the companions back to the cave entrance. The passage to the cave was narrow and there was only one way through, making it defensible as long as none came at them from the cave itself. After a heated battle of several minutes, they had all but stopped the undead soldiers.  
Alistair took Rosalyn’s arm and pulled her forward, “Concentrate on him,” he told her. She nocked an arrow she’d coated in her strongest poison, and waited for his signal. Summoning his power, he cast Holy Smite at the conjurer as the creature mounted a new attack, staggering it. Rosalyn loosed her arrow, striking it again in the chest, followed by three more in quick succession. The conjurer raised it hands weakly and cast another spell, and the group watched in horror as a dead ogre came to life in front of them, the swords that killed him still buried deep in its chest.  
Sten and Alistair rushed the creature while Wynne and Rosalyn rained arrows, fire and ice down upon it. Minutes seemed like hours as they fought before the ogre lay dead for a second time, a new set of weapons buried in it.  
Rosalyn nocked one last arrow and stood her ground as she aimed at the conjurer standing across the field. The release was quick and silent, with no sound but the quiet swoosh of the arrow as it cut through the air, embedding itself in the creature’s chest. The conjurer fell where it stood. Alistair was quick to react, running to where it fell, and bringing his blade down with a yell, severing the conjurer’s head from its body with a snap.  
He stood for a moment, looking down at it, then, turning, walked back to join the others, his conscience clearing, almost.

@@@@@

They spent the next hour or so going over the bodies of the dead lying in the field, searching for anything that might identify them, and when they found something, retrieving it to send to the dead person’s family.  
Alistair walked around the ogre, pondering it for a few minutes before climbing on it to remove the weapons buried deep in its chest. As he yanked out a longsword, he let out a gasp, crying, “Maker’s breath!”  
Rosalyn ran over to where he stood, holding a bloody dagger and longsword. “What is it?” she asked.  
“It’s Duncan’s…his sword and dagger. I recognize them. He killed the ogre!”  
She looked down at the weapons in his hand and smiled, remembered the care he had taken each night on the journey to Ostagar. He had cleaned and oiled each one carefully, sharpening them well. “You must always be prepared, love, for anything,” he said. He was. “You should keep them, Alistair,” she said.  
“No. They should be yours Lyn. In remembrance of what you did for him. Besides, I have my father’s sword now.”  
“I will take the sword, you take the dagger. He would have wanted you to have something.”  
Alistair smiled down at her and nodded. He cleaned the dagger and sword using his oil rag and tucked the dagger into his belt. Pulling Rosalyn’s sword out of her sheath, he replaced it with Duncan’s and stashed hers in the sack with the personal effects of the fallen soldiers. She smiled at his thoughtfulness and put her hand on his arm and squeezed. He covered it with his own and nodded. “Let’s get out of here,” he said.  
That night, as they sat by the fire, Rosalyn and Alistair were strangely quiet. They sat together but did not speak through the whole evening. When the time came for bed, Rosalyn had first watch but he didn’t move to his pallet; he sat next to her, staring into the fire before finally speaking, “Are you okay? Truly okay?”  
She turned to him, unsure what to say. To say she was fine would be a lie, she had tried to kill him and magic or no magic, it was wrong. “I...I don’t know. I tried to kill you, Alistair. I wanted you dead. How should I feel about that?”  
“I’m not dead, Lyn. You fought it.” His reply was halfhearted.  
“It doesn’t change what I felt.”  
“Not any more than it changes what I felt. If Sten hadn’t stopped me, I would have taken you right there. I wanted it so badly! I still do!” He moved to stand up and leave her but she reached out and stopped him. He took her hands in his holding them so tightly they hurt. “I’m not sure who I am now. You….should stay away from me.” He released her and took off into the woods, leaving her by the fire.  
The next morning he was back by the fire, having slept little during the night. He had returned after her watch and Sten said he had not slept at all. “He has a troubled soul, Kadan. It is for you to save it.” He would not elaborate and it was time to find out.

@@@@@

That next evening they camped beside a lake at the base of the southern Frostback Mountains. The air was crisp and clear and game was plentiful so they had plenty for their meal. Alistair had eaten without his usual enthusiasm even with Wynne’s encouragement. He had finally given up and gone for a walk by the lake. Rosalyn threw on her cloak, picked up his and went to find him.  
He was standing by the lake, looking out over the water. The sight reminded her of Flemeth’s hut and the first time she had seen him after she had awoken from her long illness. He had looked so sad and lonely then but only a fraction of how he looked now.  
Reaching out with her senses, she gauged his mood and found confusion, some anger, and great disappointment. To her surprise, she felt him probing back and allowed him access. When she knew he was finished, she closed the distance and covered his shoulders with his cloak. “Thank you,” he said softly, pulling the cloak around him, continuing to look out over the water.  
“Perhaps it’s time we had that talk,” she said.  
“I suppose it is,” he replied. “Where should we start?”  
“Jowan,” she said.  
He sighed, “Are you sure about him? Truly sure?”  
“Yes. I think he will help us. He is a powerful mage in his own right. Wynne said that even without the blood magic, Jowan was able to do many spells well before others his own age and level. Irving and Greagoir had decided to make him tranquil only after they learned of his dabbling in blood magic. If he hadn’t, he would have gone through the Harrowing eventually.”  
“That is what Irving told me that night after Connor’s ritual.”  
Rosalyn was stunned, “You talked to Irving? Why didn’t you say anything?” she asked.  
He shook his head, “Stubbornness I suppose, or stupidity. I can’t help believing that a blood mage is wrong, Lyn. It doesn’t matter how well anyone thinks of him. They are dangerous.”  
“So you still think I’m wrong.”  
Alistair turned to her, “Yes. I think you’re wrong. I’m sorry.” She nodded sadly then he added. “But I trust your judgment. He can stay for now, but he will be watched closely.”  
“He knows that,” she told him.  
“What about Zevran,” he said, his voice tinged with apprehension.  
Rosalyn sighed and looked back out over the water. “It is as I told you. We are elves and there is comfort knowing I’m not alone in that respect.”  
“Did I do something that made you feel uncomfortable? It was unintentional.”  
“Oh no! You’ve been wonderful about it. It’s just…it’s what I told you that morning before we were to go to the Alienage. My people will never accept us; they won’t accept you, and that…hurts.”  
He looked down at the ground, searching for words, “So where does that leave us?”  
“I’m still here, and I’m not going anywhere. There is no Zevran and me.”  
Alistair smiled; his fingers coming up to lightly brush the hair away from her face, tucking it behind her ear. “Why didn’t you tell me about Nelaros and what happened?” he asked, his demeanor sobering.  
Now it was her turn to stare out over the water, “We had never married and he was dead. When I first met you, it wasn’t important, and later when it was….I had waited too long. I guess I thought you didn’t need to know anymore. You didn’t tell me about who you were until I had to know.”  
“But I did tell you. You didn’t even do that. I found out from Zevran what happened before you told me. It’s like you don’t trust me.”  
Rosalyn knelt down and picked up a rock as she thought out her response. When nothing came to her she threw it as hard as she could, skipping it several times before it finally stopped. Alistair complimented her, “Good one.”  
She laughed softly, shaking her head. “You make it very hard to stay angry.”  
“I know. Eamon used to make me face the corner in his study when he lectured me because I would always laugh or smile; made it next to impossible for him to stay mad at me for long.” He laughed then and his eyes recovered their twinkle. “I’m sorry. Go on.”  
“I hadn’t even met Nelaros until the day of our wedding. It was an arranged marriage. Most elven marriages are.”  
“Even your parents?”  
She laughed, “Especially them. Father would have married; I’m sure, but not my mother. She was like me, a free spirit who wanted to keep that way. The Hahren told me once that the first year they were married; they hardly spoke to each other. She was so unhappy. One day they were suddenly happy. My father never married again even though the Hahren would bring suits to him from time to time. I wanted that too. That’s why I agreed to marry him.”  
“He was safe.”  
“Yes. I wasn’t living the safest and best of lives, Alistair. I was a murderer, thief and a smuggler; I had to change before I ended up dead. Nelaros represented a new life for me; a life I wanted to have, happy and loved. He wanted that with me so I remember.”  
“So why didn’t you tell me?” he asked.  
Tears formed in her eyes and she wiped them away quickly, “It still hurts.”  
Alistair started to reach for her and thought the better. He closed his eyes, remembering another talk like this one; he opened his eyes, asking, “Why do you say you aren’t good enough for me?”  
“That one should be easy given what I just told you. I’m not good enough. I’m an elf, Alistair, that won’t change.”  
“I don’t care.”  
“I’m poor and from the Alienage.”  
“I don’t care.”  
“I’m a criminal who would have been hung if I hadn’t been conscripted.”  
“I don’t care.”  
“You aren’t helping!” she shouted.  
“I don’t care!” he shouted back.  
They stared at each other, each daring the other to back down. Rosalyn broke the silence, “What happens if you’re king? Where do I fit in?”  
He turned back toward the lake, “I don’t know. All I know is that I don’t want to be king, not ever. I will refuse unless I have no choice.”  
“And if you have no choice?”  
“I won’t lose you, Lyn.” It was not just a statement, it was a promise.  
Rosalyn bent down, picked up another rock and skipped it. “Seven,” she said.  
Picking up one of his own, he threw it. “Eight,” he replied. “Your turn.”  
She took a deep breath and sighed, "Why did you say you wanted to take me when the conjurer cast the spell on you at the Tower of Ishal?"  
Alistair closed his eyes as he remembered. The feelings were just as strong as they had been that day and were warring within him just as much. “Because I do want you, Lyn. I have for a while now.”  
“You never said anything.”  
He shook his head, “I have said something, and showed you, if I wasn’t mistaken.”  
A confused look crossed Rosalyn’s eyes as she contemplated his words. “But I thought…” she trailed off, not knowing how to continue.  
“You thought I was kidding, or playing? What did you think?” he asked, curious as to her answer.  
“I don’t know what I thought! Okay!”  
Alistair laughed loud and hard at her answer, causing her to turn bright red with embarrassment and start to walk away. He caught her and stood in front of her, “No, don’t go, Lyn. This I have to hear. Tell me what I did that was so strange. I want to hear it and I won’t laugh.”  
She was humiliated, “I thought you didn’t want me. I mean…you didn’t ask for it.”  
His eyes grew wide and he was dumbstruck, “You mean, all I had to do was ask you? All this time? That’s it?”  
“In the Alienage, if we want to spend the night with someone, we ask them. If they want it then we do. It’s that simple. What were you trying to do?”  
“Ummm….court you?”  
Rosalyn started to giggle uncontrollably as she realized what he’d said. He thought he needed to court her to get her permission. “You…were courting me so I would sleep with you? That’s….” She burst out into laughter, and Alistair thought he would have to pound on her back to keep her from choking. When she had calmed down she said, “I think that’s just the sweetest thing I ever heard.”  
“Maybe if I had succeeded it would have been. You don’t court each other in the Alienage?”  
“No. We don’t have to. Marriages are arranged, remember. We just do it for fun, although love isn’t out of the question.”  
“Seems I have a lot to learn about elves,” he admitted.  
“Seems I have a lot to learn about humans,” she replied.  
“So what now?”  
“Are you asking me or would you rather court me some more?”  
“What would you like?”  
Her reply was sure and true, “Court me, please. I like it.”  
“You desire is my command, my lady,” he replied. “How shall I start?”  
“Let me see…,” she answered, wrapping her arms around him as she pulled him down for a kiss. “I think it goes like this…”

Redcliffe

With the air much cleared between them, Alistair and Rosalyn returned to the camp to find Wynne and Sten reading the missives and letters they had salvaged from King Cailan’s war chest. Wynne exclaimed out loud while reading, “Honestly, boy!” Sten just huffed and continued to read.  
Alistair sat down and picked up a letter, “What’s all this?” he asked.  
“We are attempting to decipher the letters your king was storing in his chest, but the code is unfamiliar to me,” replied Sten.  
Wynne shook her head, “Sten, how many times do I have to tell you they aren’t in code?” To Alistair she continued, “It seems our beloved king had a ‘thing’ for Empress Celine of Orlais.”  
“You’re joking! Let me see,” Alistair said, reaching for the letter she held. He read for a minute and smiled, “Well, I’ll be damned. Seems he did. What do you make of that?” He handed the letter to Rosalyn to read.  
After a minute of two, Rosalyn exclaimed, “Maker’s breath!”  
“What?” asked Alistair.  
“He was going to leave Anora for her.”  
“You’re joking!” Alistair said as she pointed out the text to him. After reading, he shook his head. “I knew he had made a few trips to Orlais for negotiations, but I had no idea he was going to set Anora aside for her. No wonder Loghain is angry. Imagine an Orlesian queen!”  
“This ‘queen’ had an army prepared and at the king’s disposal to fight the Blight,” said Sten. “They are amassed at the border with the Orlesian Grey Wardens in attendance and waiting for his signal to march.”  
“Here’s a half-drafted reply giving the go ahead. It was never sent,” commented Rosalyn. She looked over at Alistair, “He had the troops, why didn’t he just send the letter and wait a few days? All this could have been avoided.”  
Alistair shook his head, “Who knows? The battle was upon us so quickly there may not have been time. We have no idea how old this letter is, there’s no date. Still…” he drifted off, not wanting to think of what it meant. Rosalyn laid her head on his shoulder and he kissed her hair. “Maker!” he exclaimed as he read another letter, “Eamon approved of this! He and Teyrn Cousland were hammering out the details.”  
“Is it wise that we should be reading all this?” asked Rosalyn, warily.  
“Probably not,” he replied. “It might jeopardize our neutrality if anyone knew we had seen them. The Wardens could be seen as being too favorable to one party. We’d best not let Eamon know we read them. I’ll put them back in the pouch and seal it so he thinks it’s untouched.”  
Rosalyn looked over at Alistair and whispered, “Devious. It just makes me tingly all over.”  
“That’s where I’m aiming, love,” he replied and kissed her cheek. He winked at Wynne eliciting a grunt from Sten and a slight giggle from Wynne,  
A few days later, the group was back in Redcliffe in Eamon’s study as Alistair handed the documents over. “What else did you find in the chest?” Eamon asked.  
Alistair drew Maric’s sword from his scabbard and laid it on the desk. “Just this. I have taken it as my own.”  
Eamon’s eyes grew wide and a smile began to form, “Does this mean you have changed your mind?”  
“Claiming a sword that is rightfully mine changes nothing, my lord,” was all he said. Eamon shook his head and spared a glance at Rosalyn, standing next to Alistair. His gaze made her uneasy.  
The next morning, Rosalyn was working with Jowan, Leliana and Zevran in the lists when a messenger arrived to bid her to the Arl’s study for a word. Alistair had been asked by Teagan earlier in the day to look over the new troops that had been massing in the fields around Redcliffe. She accepted the invitation and followed the boy.  
Eamon met her at the door as she arrived. “Thank you for coming, Warden, please come in and sit down. Can I get you something?”  
“Water will be fine, my lord,” she answered. Eamon gave the servant a nod and water was poured for her. She was surprised when he dismissed the servant and served her himself.  
“Thank you, my lord,” she said, taking the glass.  
“I appreciate all you have done for my family during these last weeks, Warden. We would be surely lost without your help,” began the Arl.  
“It was my pleasure, my lord.” She hesitated and then spoke, “What did you want to see me about?”  
Eamon paced back and forth a bit then stopped to face her. “It has not escaped my notice that you and Alistair have become…close in your time together,”  
Rosalyn took a sip of water, “He is an exceptional man.”  
“That he is, Warden. I am most proud of the man he has become…and the man he will become.”  
“I do not understand, my lord.”  
“Alistair has a chance to make a name for himself like no other. If he becomes king, he will need an heir, and that will mean a suitable girl will have to be found.”  
“And you are implying that I am an unsuitable candidate?”  
Eamon shook his head, “Let us just say…inconvenient.” He walked to the windows and looked out. “I must ask you, is it true that Grey Wardens are unable to conceive children?”  
“It is not impossible, but very unlikely. One of the partners would have to be free from the taint,” she said, “The Warden would have to be…diligent.”  
“You see the problem. Alistair must be free to pursue an advantageous marriage as soon as possible if he is to be king. Would it not be better for you both if you were to end it now?”  
Pain sliced through Rosalyn as she contemplated what he was asking, “It is too late for that, my lord.”  
“Then you and he…?” Eamon trailed off, considering what she had said.  
Rosalyn took one last sip of water, rose and placed the glass on the desk. Turning to Eamon, “Yes, my lord,” she lied, “For some time now.”  
“I see,” was his reply.  
“Thank you for the water, my lord.” She walked to the door, opened it and left.

@@@@@

Rosalyn did not return to the lists after her meeting with the Arl. When she missed the midday meal, Alistair went looking for her, finally finding her at the tower where they had had their picnic, sitting against the wall, her eyes damp with tears.  
“Lyn? What is it?” he asked her as he sat down next her. He gathered up in his arms and she clung to him.  
“I had a talk with Eamon this morning,” was all she said, burying her head in his chest.  
Alistair had known it would come, but he had hoped the Arl would talk to him first. “I see. I wondered why Teagan asked me to go with him this morning and didn’t ask you. What did he say?”  
“He wants me to leave you.”  
“He….what?” His blue eyes flashed red as he realized what Eamon meant. Calmly he asked, “What did you say?”  
Rosalyn swallowed. He was angry, she knew. “I said it was too late.”  
“Too late?”  
“That we had…gone the distance, so to speak.” Tears were welling in her eyes.  
Alistair looked at her, amazed. “You told Eamon that you and I had…but we haven’t.”  
“I know. I lied to him,” she replied. Drawing back from him, she took a breath, “He’s right though. I should leave you.”  
“Yet you are still here,” he pointed out.  
She looked up at him, “I could never leave you.”  
He looked at her for a long moment, as if to memorize how she looked at that exact moment in time. “Maker! What did I ever do to deserve you?”  
“We drank Darkspawn blood and went to war.”  
“I’d still do it again,” he said as he held her close.  
Later that afternoon, the servants avoided the Arl’s study as the sounds of yelling were heard coming from the room. “Ser Alistair has grown tired of the Arl’s plots,” commented one of the girls, giggling. That was an understatement.

The Brecilian Forest

The next day, Bodahn brought word from his sources that the Dalish had been seen in the section of the Brecilian Forest nearest Redcliffe. Alistair wanted to leave as soon as possible to find the elusive clans and get himself and Rosalyn away from Eamon and his maneuverings for a while. They agreed to leave the next day.  
Rosalyn suggested that they take Zevran as another elf; even a Dalish pretender would be welcome on such a trip. Despite his feelings for the elven assassin, Alistair agreed to take him. His tracking skills would be greatly needed. What he didn’t like was Rosalyn’s choice for their second companion. She was in her room packing her kit and checking her weapons when he found her. “What do you mean, we are bringing Jowan?” he asked angrily.  
“He’s ready, Alistair. We need his skills in attack as well as healing. We have no idea how long we will be out there,” she answered.  
“So you figured that bringing a blood mage along would satisfy those needs.”  
Rosalyn lost her patience with him, “Why do you always bring that up? He hasn’t committed a single act of blood magic since we’ve known him. I don’t think he has since he left Kinloch Hold.”  
“That doesn’t mean he’s not dangerous! He could be waiting for the right time or even practicing in ways we don’t even know about. I don’t want him along!”  
“Well, I do!”  
“Well I don’t!”  
“Yes!”  
“No!”  
“Why do you feel so strongly about this?” she asked.  
“Because I don’t want the woman I love to become the thrall of a blood mage, okay?” he replied angrily.  
Rosalyn smiled and came to stand in front of him, “I won’t,” she said as she put her arms around him.  
“You make it very hard to stay angry, you know that?” he replied as his arms encircled her.  
“So I once told you,” she said as his mouth came down on hers. Rosalyn sighed as he held her close, pouring all his fear into the kiss.  
“Be careful, love,” he said into her hair as he held her. “I worry.”  
“I will,” she promised. Alistair released her and turned to leave. Rosalyn suddenly realized something as he turned away, “Alistair? Did you just say you loved me?”  
Still a little mad and disgusted, he replied as he opened the door, “Seems I did.”  
“Oh,” she said as he left, “Just checking.” And she smiled.  
The next day the group left on their quest, Rosalyn, Alistair, Zevran and Jowan. They headed straight for the forest, making good time as they went. Two days later they stood at the edge of the deepest part, home to the Dalish elves of Ferelden.  
“Do you feel that?” Alistair asked her.  
“Yes.” She paused a moment, sensing more, “Darkspawn,” she said, shaking her head.  
“And more,” said Jowan. “Dark magic. I can feel it.”  
“What?” asked Alistair, suspiciously.  
“You don’t have to be a blood mage to feel this, Ser Alistair. There are evil forces at work in there.”  
Zevran walked a short distance ahead and knelt down to examine the ground. “Aravel tracks; Dalish wagons, if you will. They have been through here, not that long ago.”  
Alistair looked down at Rosalyn and she nodded. “Takes us to them, Zevran,” he said. Zevran nodded and led them in, the forest closing in behind them.

The Dalish Camp

Zevran followed the aravel tracks for days as the trail snaked through the forest, often crossing itself multiple times. Neither Rosalyn nor Alistair had seen anything like it before. “Why does the trail do that?” she asked Zevran.  
Zevran knelt down to observe the trail closely, “The aravels are pulled by the halla, but the Dalish do not guide them, the halla themselves decide where the clans will go. They have been known to wander for days in a single small area before they feel it is safe to stop. They are very perceptive creatures.”  
Alistair was suspicious, “How do you know so much about the Dalish, Zevran?”  
“I may not have grown up around them but I was born Dalish. And I have been a guest of them from time to time in my travels. If they are here, I will find them.” He said no more and continued on, forcing the others to follow him.  
Three days later, the tracks abruptly ended in a heavily wooded area of the forest. Zevran searched for a day and could not find where the trail led. Satisfied, he returned to them. “They are near; we will have to wait until they wish to be found.”  
The group set up camp in a small clearing and went about the business of life, cooking, sleeping, gathering wood and eating as they would anywhere else, and waited.  
Jowan became nervous after a day or two, prompting Alistair to reluctantly ask him what was wrong, “There is evil here, Ser Alistair. More than we know.” He suggested he set magical wards to help detect anyone or anything that might come too close to the camp and Alistair agreed, to the extent of offering to accompany him in the setting of the wards.  
When Rosalyn and Zevran offered to go hunting, Alistair rolled his eyes at the assassin’s offer but did not object as they were running low on meat. “Watch yourself, love,” he warned. “I’d have you back in one piece, please?”  
Rosalyn stood up on tiptoe and kissed him, “I’ll be fine.” Unconvinced, Alistair watched her go.  
They traveled about an hour away from camp when they picked up the fresh trail of a herd of deer and began tracking them. Zevran noticed how far away from camp they were and decided to take matters into his own hands. He stopped and took her in his arms, his lips coming down to hers as he asked, “I was wondering, my dear Rosalyn, why you haven’t answered my question yet? It has been some time since I asked you.”  
Rosalyn was unsure what to say at that moment. She was attracted to Zevran immensely, and time with him in a bed would be well spent, she knew. But she knew he was like Dallan, caring, but not to the point of being willing to bind himself to her. It was a scenario she had already played out and one she didn’t wish to repeat. She made her choice. “Zevran, I…I have an arrangement with Alistair. You should know that.”  
“I see, my dove,” he replied. “But does he do this for you?” His mouth came down on hers as his hands began to roam over her body. Despite her resolve, Rosalyn felt herself respond to his touch, wanting more of it. She gasped and leaned into his body, feeling his hardness against her. She was on a precipice, falling, and she took the only way out.  
“Zevran, please!” she cried, “I…I can’t. I love Alistair.” He stopped his motions and drew back, looking at her.  
“It has come to that?” he asked, amazed.  
Rosalyn comprehended what she had just said; she had admitted her love for Alistair. “Yes,” she said quietly. “I am sorry if I led you on. It was unintentional, but yes, I do love him.” She smiled then, the pieces coming together for her at last. “I will understand if you do not wish to follow me anymore.”  
Zevran looked down at her. She was the first woman he had ever considered binding himself to. There was no way he could leave her now. “I made a vow, my dear; one I do not wish to break. I will stay if you will still have me.” He bowed his head and placed his hand on his heart in a gesture of fealty.  
“I accept. Please stay.”  
He took her hand in his, bringing it up to his lips for a kiss, “And if you ever change your mind…” he said as he kissed the hand.  
“You will be the first to know,” she promised, laughing. He nodded, laughing along with her.  
Suddenly an arrow streaked by, imbedding itself in a tree next to them. Zevran grabbed Rosalyn and threw her on the ground, sheltering her with his body as the arrows flew above them. When they had stopped, Zevran stood up, his hands raised, “Halam sahlin! Ar'din nuvenin na'din!” he yelled. “Show yourself quickly, Rosalyn,” he told her. “Do not fight back.” She stood up, her hands in the air.  
Rosalyn looked around her as she stood up and saw a dozen warriors, dressed in dark green armor the same color as the forest around them. Their faces were tattooed with a variety of colors and shapes, mostly in shades of green and blue. One warrior stood out, his face painted with a shade of gold in addition to the green and blue. He made a gesture and four warriors stepped forward and tied their hands in front of them, blindfolding their eyes. “Zevran?” Rosalyn asked.  
“It is all right. I am here,” was all she heard.

@@@@@

Rosalyn lost track of time as they wandered through the forest, tripping over rocks and branches. Several times she called out to Zevran to see if he was still there, but received no answer in return. She feared she was alone. Finally she found herself pushed through a doorway of sorts, stumbling and falling to the ground. She raised her hands to her face and pulled the blindfold down. She was in a small, dimly lit room, empty except for a large bundle in the far corner. Rosalyn put her wrists up to her mouth and used her teeth to pull on the knots holding her while wiggling her hands to loosen the rope. Grunting loudly as she worked, she managed to work her hands out of the ropes that held her, only to hear moaning coming from the bundle in the corner. “Hello?” she asked.  
“Lyn?” came a deep voice, weakly.  
“Alistair!” she cried, rushing to his side. He had been hit several times and was bleeding from a wound on his head but was otherwise well. She helped him sit up, and untied the ropes that bound his hands and feet.  
“Maker’s breath, I thought I’d lost you!” he exclaimed, taking her in his arms and kissing her, more to reassure himself than her.  
“Shhh, I’m here and fine. How did you get here?” she asked.  
“Jowan and I were setting the wards when we were surrounded by warriors in green paint. Jowan fought back with magic and they let him be, but I was hit over the head a few times. I woke up here. I don’t know what happened to Jowan.”  
“Zevran and I were tracking deer when we were surrounded. He told me not to fight back and they brought me here. I don’t what happened to him.”  
He held her tighter in his arms, “As long as you are here.”  
What now?” she asked. “It seems we found the Dalish.”  
“We wait for an invitation,” he answered and she settled down next to him to wait.  
Hours later, the door opened and an elderly elven mage stepped through, stopping briefly to look at them before moving aside to let another enter behind him. Zevran smiled as he greeted them, “Miss me?”  
“Zevran!” Rosalyn said happily, helping Alistair to his feet. “What are you up to?”  
“Allow me to introduce Zathrian, keeper of this clan,” announced Zevran as the elderly man bowed his head to them. “He has come to welcome you on behalf of his people.”  
“As your friend has told you, I am Zathrian. I welcome you to our camp. Please accept my apologies for your treatment. If we had known you were Grey Wardens, your treatment would have been much improved, I assure you. I extend to you the hospitality of our clan.”  
“I am the Grey Warden Alistair and this is Warden Rosalyn,” declared Alistair. “We humbly accept your apology and welcome your help.” Zathrian nodded in approval and raised his hands as they began to glow with a blue light causing Alistair to step back and in front of Rosalyn. Zathrian lightly touched Alistair’s head with his fingers and the blue light began to spread over Alistair’s head and body. Rosalyn had to put her arms around his waist to support him as he swayed.  
As soon as it had started, the glow was gone, leaving Alistair healed but in a euphoric state. “He is well and will return to us shortly,” said Zathrian as if he had read Rosalyn’s mind. She released her hold on Alistair and stood before him. His eyes began to lose their glaze and he blinked twice before he looked down at her and nodded.  
“Thank you for your hospitality, Keeper, and your healing,” he said when he had regained his senses.  
“It was no trouble, friend.” Zathrian gestured to the door, “If you would join me?”  
“Keeper? There was another with us, a Warden mage. Have you seen him?” asked Rosalyn.  
“Jowan is here and he is well. He is helping the Dalish with…a problem they have,” Zevran told them. His eyebrows rose in warning and Alistair nodded imperceptibly.  
“Of course. Please lead on Keeper,” said Alistair and they followed Zathrian and Zevran out the door. As he left he took Rosalyn’s hand, for comfort as well as her safety. He would not lose her again.

@@@@@

Outside the hut they were faced with a sight like no other. Men, women and children lay side by side on pallets, many in agony from severe pain. Clearly the problem Zevran mentioned was deadly serious.  
“What…what has happened here?” Rosalyn asked, nearly speechless.  
Zathrian paused to lay hands on a young girl, writhing on her cot, “Our clan came to the Brecilian Forest a month ago as is our custom when traveling in this part of Ferelden. While we are mindful of the dangers of this forest, we didn’t expect to find the werewolves lying in wait for us. We were ambushed and though we drove them back, as you see, much damage was done.”  
Alistair looked around at the suffering, “There are actual werewolves in the forest?”  
“At one time, the werebeasts roamed the lands in great numbers but when they were possessed by spirits, they turned into horrific monsters. Humans warred against them and destroyed the creatures but the tales they tell have grown more and more inaccurate as the years have passed. The werebeasts are not all gone from this land as you can see.”  
“So why would the beasts attack you?” asked Rosalyn.  
“They are savage and unrelenting and need no reason to attack. What is curious is the ambush. It suggests a level of intelligence never seen before.”  
Alistair shook his head in disbelief, “Surely you have some warriors to spare.”  
Zathrian shook his head, “The affliction that plagues my people is a curse that runs through their blood that brings great agony and eventually either death or transformation into something monstrous. The only thing that could help must come from the source of the curse, no trivial task to retrieve.”  
“You are talking about a werewolf,” said Alistair in disbelief.  
“No, it is the one who made them come to be. A great wolf called Witherfang. He is the source of the curse. If he is killed and his heart brought to me, perhaps I could destroy the curse. It is a task that has proved too dangerous for us.”  
Rosalyn found her voice, “Could you not ask for outside help?”  
“From whom? The children of the stone? The shemlen? Do they have time to spare for us?” he asked angrily.  
Rosalyn backed up a step towards Alistair, feeling the power of the mage as he loosed his anger. Alistair took her hand and squeezed. “You said you could ‘perhaps’ destroy the curse?” he asked.  
Zathrian calmed himself and bowed his head, “It is the only hope we have left.”  
“Then I’ll find this Witherfang for you,” announced Rosalyn. “How shall I find him?”  
The elven mage’s eyebrows rose, “Look for the white wolves in the forest. They are his eyes. Follow them and they will lead you to him. You should be warned, however, that more than just werewolves are lurking in the forest but if you can indeed help, I wish you luck. Now, if you will excuse me, I have many who need me.” With that he left, leaving them alone.  
Rosalyn walked through the rows of beds, watching and listening with her senses. She knew there was great pain there and was desperate to help these people who could just as easily be her own. A young elven woman holding a baby put out her hand and spoke to Rosalyn in the elven tongue. She replied in kind, receiving a slight smile before the woman began to cough and choke, nearly dropping her child. Rosalyn caught the baby, only to realize it was dead and its mother now also dead. A man came and gently took the dead child from her and put the bundle on the cot with the mother, beckoning another man to come and help him. Rosalyn staggered forward, watching the men haul the bodies away.  
Alistair stopped her as she wandered away, “Lyn?” When she didn’t answer, he took her arm and guided her away from the sick, saying, “Come love, let’s away.” She nodded and let him lead.

@@@@@

Alistair led her away from the camp to a nearby lake. Rosalyn was overwhelmed with what she had seen and felt. When they reached the shore, he took her in his arms, and she clung to him as if she was drowning and only he could save her.  
When she finally relaxed against him, he asked, “What is it? What did you sense?”  
“There is great evil here,” she said, her voice shaking with emotion.  
“I know, I feel it,” he said, kissing the top of her head.  
She closed her eyes, absorbing his strength, “They could be my people,” she whispered. “I can’t fail them as I did my own.”  
Alistair looked down into her eyes, “We won’t.” She put her arms around him and held him as they listened to the wind in the trees.  
A few minutes later, a deep voice cleared its throat nearby. Rosalyn looked up to see Jowan standing there, a pained look on his face. “Jowan?” she asked and gave the young mage a hug, receiving a smile in return. “Are you all right?”  
“I am well, thank you,” he replied. Looking at Alistair, he nodded, saying, “Ser Alistair.”  
“Jowan,” Alistair replied gruffly, making Rosalyn smile inwardly just a bit.  
Jowan cleared his throat, “There is something else I must speak to you about.”  
“What is it” she asked.  
“There is…evil here, dark magic, very old and very strong. It seems to be coming from Zathrian himself.”  
Alistair’s eyebrows went up, “You’re sure?”  
“Yes, ser. I’ve been working around him since I arrived. There is no mistaking it,” replied Jowan. “To defeat it, we must find its source or its victim.”  
Rosalyn shook her head in disbelief. Alistair turned toward the lake and bent to pick up a stone. Standing, he threw it as hard and far as he could in frustration and anger. “Good one,” commented Rosalyn. “What do you want to do?”  
He smiled; pleased to see she was better, saying, “Your turn.” Looking at Jowan, he said, “Go get Zevran and bring him back here. Tell him to prepare to leave.”  
“Yes, Ser Alistair,” replied Jowan, who ran to do as he was bid.  
Rosalyn looked up at Alistair, “You have a plan.”  
“We’ll do his task, but not necessarily the way he wants it. I won’t help him use dark magic against his own people.”  
“Very sneaky. That just gives me the shivers, you know.”  
He laughed and bent down to kiss her, “That’s where I’m aiming, love.”

The Brecilian Forest

Alistair told them all to make a big show while they left, for the people’s sake if not Zathrian’s. He didn’t want to call attention to the fact that they might be doing anything untoward. They traded with the local craftsmen and greeted as many of the Dalish as they could. Rosalyn spoke to all in the elven tongue, collecting offerings of food and water as they passed. She made sure she missed no one as they left the camp.  
Jowan took point, using his magic to guide them to the source of the dark magic they all sensed. As he guided them, they looked for the white wolves Zathrian mentioned. There was a stillness in the forest that they all felt; a terrible sense of being watched. Even normally calm Zevran began to shows signs of the strain.  
As darkness fell, they camped in a cave near a stream. Rosalyn drew first watch and sat at the mouth of the cave near the fire. The air was chilly and she hugged herself to keep warm. When she felt a cloak draped around her, she looked up to see Alistair sitting down behind her. He drew her back against him, circling her with his arms.  
“I’m supposed to be on watch, you know,” she said.  
“You watch the forest, I’ll watch you,” he said, kissing her neck.  
Turning in his arms, she kissed him will all the passion she could muster, causing him to moan slightly at the feeling, “A taste of the future,” she said, her lips meeting his.  
“Damn, woman! I’ve never been so happy to get older!” he exclaimed, making Rosalyn laugh.  
He pulled her in closer asking, “Lyn? What didn’t you say you spoke Dalish?”  
She thought for a moment, “Let’s see, the best answer would be yours. ‘You never asked,’ I believe you said to me.” She laughed at his frown. “Don’t like it when someone uses it on you, huh?”  
His hands came up under her arms and tickled her, causing her to go into gales of giggles. “What were you saying?” he asked, laughing.  
“Stop that!” she cried, turning around in his arms to escape. He caught her wrists as she tried to push him away and held her. They both stilled a moment and he released her wrists, bringing her arms up and around his neck, claiming her mouth in a searing kiss, moaning lightly at her touch.  
Rosalyn wrapped herself around him, holding him as close as she could. He laid her on the ground and began to kiss her neck and face, his hands roaming over her, seeking her pleasure. She gasped as his fingers found her breast through her shirt, stroking and rubbing it to a peak. She was ready to surrender and Alistair had her where he wanted her, around him and under him. When her hands reached for the laces on his breeches, he let her pull them and run her hands around the waistband to loosen them. He moaned loudly as her hand began to reach in for him.  
“You know, there are people who are trying to sleep in here,” they heard Zevran call out. “Aren’t you supposed to be on watch, Rosalyn my dear?” He burst into a round of laughter to be joined by Jowan.  
Alistair turned red and muttered something about showing Zevran a new place to put his sword and Rosalyn giggled. With one last quick kiss, he got up and retied his laces. “Sorry,” he said softly.  
“I’m not,” she replied. “We did say we wanted this, Alistair. Have you changed your mind?”  
“Maker’s breath, no! I mean, of course I haven’t. It’s just…well it’s been a while since….”  
“Since we said yes.”  
“It has, you know.”  
“We’ve had a trying last few weeks. It will only get worse for us from now on. Perhaps we can…”  
“NO! Not here. Not now. I don’t want them knowing what we are doing then criticizing me in the morning when something doesn’t go right, because something will. I want peace and quiet, no keeping watch and I want a bed.”  
“A bed is very nice,” she said seductively, running her finger slowly up his chest. “Lots of things to do there.”  
“Stop that! I have enough fantasies to last me without you giving me more, woman!” he exclaimed, grabbing her hand.  
Rosalyn laughed at his statement. “All right, talking it is. What did you want to talk about?”  
“You were speaking Dalish.”  
“My grandmother was Dalish, from a clan in Orlais. She came here as a girl and ended up in an orphanage when her parents died. She was later bought for service in a brothel. When she became too old and undesirable to work, the madam sold her to my grandfather, who married her. His wife had died in childbirth so he purchased her and married her. He was good to her and they had ten children, six of whom reached adulthood.”  
“So she taught you?” he asked.  
“She taught my mother and her brothers and sisters before she died, my mother taught me. Unfortunately I haven’t spoken it since Mama died so most of it is lost, but it’s coming back now.”  
He brushed his fingers through her hair and removed a leaf he found. “She must have been very special.”  
“What about your mother?” she asked. “What do you know or remember about her?”  
He turned the leaf over and over in his hand, “She was a serving girl in the kitchen, they said, young. She hadn’t been well after the delivery and died a few months later. I was cared for by another woman until I was three then a village girl from the kitchen took over for her. I was in the stable by the time I was eight so Aaron the stable master watched over me then. He died just before the Templars came for me.”  
“What was her name?”  
“Helen, they said.”  
“Mine was Adaia. Helen is a pretty name. She must have been beautiful.”  
“So was yours, I think; like her daughter.”  
Rosalyn smiled, her eyes going smoky, “Flatterer.”  
“I prefer truthsayer,” he replied, leaning in to her.  
“Me too,” she said, closing the distance.

@@@@@

Rosalyn woke to a chorus of birds singing above her, the most beautiful song she had ever heard. There was something heavy on her and she raised her head to find she had been sleeping in Alistair’s arms. He stirred slightly when she moved so she was careful not to move too much. Instead she took her finger and traced the tattoo around his eye, admiring the curves and turns it made.  
Alistair opened his eyes and bent down to kiss her, “Good morning,”  
“Good morning,” she said, “Where did you get your tattoo?”  
He sat up, “Several of the Wardens got them before we left for Ostagar. It’s a Grey Warden tattoo.”  
“What does it mean?”  
“No one knows. Duncan told us it came from the time of the first Wardens. Whatever it means has been lost but the symbol stays.”  
She was intrigued, “Next time we go to Denerim, could I get one too?”  
“Oh no. I will not let you spoil that beautiful face with an ugly tattoo. You can get one anywhere else you want. Surprise me.”  
“Oooo. That sounds like a challenge, ser!”  
“That’s one treasure hunt I look forward to,” with that he took her in his arms and pulled her up until she straddled him.  
“My, you must be looking forward to something,” she remarked as she lowered herself for a kiss. Alistair claimed her mouth, mumbling, “Mmmm hmm.”  
A voice cleared its throat just then, causing both of them to look up in its direction. “Excuse me, Ser Alistair, but you wanted me to tell you if I sensed the magic nearby. I have, ser.”  
Alistair sat up on his elbows as Rosalyn climbed off him. “Find Zevran and have him track it.”  
“I already did that, ser. He just left.”  
“Very well, pack the rest of the camp and make ready to leave. Eat if you haven’t, we will be traveling fast.” Jowan nodded and returned to the cave. Rosalyn stood up and put out her hand to help him up. “You know, that ‘Ser Alistair’ crap is really beginning to annoy me.”  
Rosalyn laughed at his reaction, “So the fact that you are a knight and a former Templar who could drain his mana and smite him has nothing to do with it. You are pretty intimidating with all that Templar stuff, you know. I definitely thought so when I met you.”  
He was astonished, “What changed your mind?”  
“It was a story.” When she saw he looked confused, she continued, “In Redcliffe, you sat on the steps of the Chantry and told the children a story about Garahel. You weren’t so frightening after that.”  
Alistair smiled, remembering, “They were all so scared, I told them the story to take their minds off their troubles. It was always my favorite.”  
“Mine too. You would be a wonderful father.”  
He shook his head, “That’s not in the cards for me anymore.”  
“Me either,” she replied, sadly.  
Alistair took her into his arms and held her tightly. “You are the bravest, kindest, most wonderful person in the world,” he whispered, “You would be a fabulous mother, I know.”  
Rosalyn looked up at him and knew he believed it.

@@@@@

Zevran made quick work of his tracking assignment, finding evidence of the white wolves nearby. The companions packed up and followed him, moving fast as they chased the pack across the forest, going deeper into the unknown. Eventually the forest became dark as the trees became so thick they blocked out the light from the sun.  
Alistair was cautious as they continued on through the dense growth, “Zevran, is there any sign that they have stopped or even slowed a bit?”  
“They seem determined to get somewhere fast, but there is another possibility,” he answered, stopping to drink from his water skin. “They could be leading us somewhere as well.”  
“Delightful. So we could be following them into a trap?” asked Rosalyn.  
“Not that that is what I hoped for, but yes, they could be,” said the elf. “What do you think, Jowan?”  
Jowan walked a few steps forward and stopped, listening with his senses, “It is nearby, very close.”  
“How close?” asked Alistair.  
The mage’s arm came up and he pointed to a spot ahead of them, “We have found it, I think.”  
Ahead they saw what at first glance appeared to be trees, covered in moss and lichen, the growth of centuries. Close up they were ruins; walls, doorways and buildings long abandoned, a city in the forest.  
“Maker’s breath! A city!” exclaimed Alistair, “It must be eons old.”  
Rosalyn squinted in the dim light, “Who could have built it? The elves? I know of no tales of elven cities since Arlathan.” She shivered, “There is something else. Darkspawn, I think.”  
“As old as that seems, it would stand to reason. Let’s make camp here then go scout it out. We won’t enter today, there’s not enough light left. Zevran, you’re with me. Lyn, stay with Jowan and set the camp; I want every ward and trap you have in place tonight.” He bent down and kissed Rosalyn, “Be careful, love,” he whispered.  
“You too,” she whispered back. He nodded and took off with Zevran towards the ruins.  
Later as they sat around the relative comfort and security of the campfire, they heard the sounds they had been searching for. The distinct howls of wolves rose all around them, bringing them to their feet, weapons drawn. They formed a circle, preparing for attack as the howls grew louder. From out of the trees came three figures, wolves by their look but yet not wolves as they stood on two legs before the companions.  
“So it is true, brothers and sisters. Here is another of the Dalish, come to make us pay for our attack,” said a grizzled grey-haired elder.  
Rosalyn stepped forward, ignoring Alistair’s gesture of warning, “I am not Dalish, nor am I their servant.”  
“Do not take us for fools!” he growled, “You came from their camp, sent by their old keeper.” He stepped forward into the light of the campfire, “I am Swiftrunner, leader of my brothers and sisters. Return to Zathrian and tell him you have failed. Tell him we will watch them suffer the curse we have suffered for so long. He will pay!”  
“I would rather talk than fight you.”  
Swiftrunner growled loudly, causing Rosalyn to take a short step back. “Zathrian wishes only our destruction, never talk!”  
Rosalyn remained calm, asking, “Is there no way to resolve this peacefully? You did attack the Dalish first.”  
“You know nothing! Even though you are their kind, you know nothing of us or of the Dalish you serve. You’re a fool!”  
Standing her ground, she spoke, “I do not wish a fight, but I will if I am attacked.”  
“We do not wish to fight you, but we cannot trust you. Run tell the Dalish they are doomed!” Swiftrunner stepped back into the forest, disappearing as quickly as he has appeared.  
“And we’re still alive,” remarked Alistair.  
“Always a pleasant prospect,” replied Zevran.  
“What now?” said Rosalyn to herself more than anyone.  
“We might as well get some sleep while we can. We won’t be able to enter the city until tomorrow anyway. Zevran take first watch, Jowan second, Rosalyn and I will take the third,” ordered Alistair. “Wake us if you sense or hear anything.” He spread his blankets out on the ground close to the fire, not bothering to remove his armor. Sleep might come but it would be light.  
Rosalyn curled up next to him, her bow, her dagger and sword at her side, and closed her eyes. It was going to be a long night.

@@@@@

Sleep eluded her despite her attempts to relax. The sounds of the forest were too deafening. As a result, she had time to think about her position in the world at that point in time.  
In the months since Ostagar, Rosalyn had come to embrace her role as a Grey Warden. Even though she was not fond of the nightmares, the short life span and the inability to conceive a child, she was taken with their ideals and purpose. It was a purpose that had been lacking in her life at the Alienage. The old prejudices were still there, but once it was known she was a Warden, they disappeared to be replaced with respect and even awe. It was both exhilarating and humbling at the same time.  
Perhaps that was why Duncan had offered her the chance. He was interested in saving her from a terrible fate at the hands of the guards and the arl of Denerim, but he recognized something in her, a strength that she possessed far above the usual. Alistair had that strength too, as had Duncan; men she admired and loved.  
Love was on her mind mostly. It was all too apparent that Alistair wanted her. He had told her himself after they had returned from the Ostagar mission. “It’s not the right time. We’ll wait. You’ll tell me when you’re ready,” he had said at the inn in Denerim. He continued to wait, but for how much longer? It was time, she decided, and she was ready. They just lacked the proper location. “I’ll have to work on that,” she thought, snuggling closer to Alistair on their shared pallet.  
“You know, I can practically hear you thinking,” Alistair said as she tossed and turned. He rose up on his elbows and looked at her. “What is it?”  
Rosalyn looked over at Zevran and Jowan, finding them both occupied with sleep and fire tending. “Oh…nothing special. Did I wake you?”  
“No, not that I could sleep anyway. What’s the matter?”  
“Why can’t you sleep? Are you uncomfortable? I could give you more of the pallet.”  
He sighed, “Let’s see, I’m in a terrifying forest surrounded by vicious werewolves. I travel with an assassin who’s tried to kill me and a blood mage who might. On top of all that, the most beautiful and desirable woman I have ever known is sharing my bed and I can’t touch her. No, sleep is not what’s on my mind right now.”  
“Oh…,” she replied, taking it all in. “It’s not on mine either.”  
He sat up, “We seem to have all night here. What’s the problem?”  
No problems really. I was just thinking about my life and where it’s gone. A year ago, I was a very different girl.”  
“What were you a year ago?”  
“I was a smuggler who was hiding the fact from her family, and in love with another smuggler who carried on with others behind my back. It was a life far apart from this one.”  
Alistair laughed softly, “I had just become a Grey Warden and was learning all the skills I would need to fight Darkspawn. I was fresh out of the abbey with not an inkling of what I was getting into, a very long way from my old life.”  
“Is that bad?” she asked.  
“Oh no, it’s so much better. I can wear what I want, not shave if I want, go where I want and do what I want. That is incentive enough for me.”  
Now it was Rosalyn’s turn to laugh, “Same here, I guess, although without the shaving.” He laughed and she paused a moment, “I’m not sorry I ever drank from that chalice.”  
“Really?”  
“I’d do it all again too. For you.” She kissed him then. All she needed now was a bed.

The Elven Ruins

Dawn arrived, making the forest seem a little lighter so they secured the camp and prepared to enter the ruins. Jowan had created some torches that he was able to enchant with a light spell to illuminate their way as they explored. Slowly they made their way to an arched entryway that took them to a large ruined fortress.  
As they passed through the arch, Alistair stopped, looking around. As Rosalyn made to walk by him, he put out his hand to stop her, “Darkspawn.”  
They drew their weapons and slowly walked forward, Alistair and Zevran leading, flanked by Rosalyn and Jowan. Two ogres stood ahead of them, but had not sensed their presence yet. Alistair made signals to Rosalyn and Zevran to attack the one on the right while he and Jowan would attack the left. Drawing her bow to full draw, she loosed a poisoned arrow that struck the ogre in the eye, staggering him. Sensing their presence, the left ogre moved towards them, only to find himself attacked by Alistair. Jowan cast a freeze spell on the left one before sending lightning to the right ogre as Rosalyn loosed arrows one after another. A second freeze spell finished the right one as Alistair moved in for a kill on the left side. Both were down and no one was hurt.  
“I don’t sense any others, do you?” asked Rosalyn, catching her breath.  
Alistair cleaned his blade on some nearby grass. “No, but I’m sure they are here. Let’s go.”  
They moved forward into the fortress, going down a long stairway into a large entry hall. There were carvings and statues everywhere, some recognizably Tevinter in origin, the rest were unknown. It was like nothing any of them had ever seen.  
“This statue looks like one in the basement archives at the Circle Tower. It’s Tevinter, but the next one looks elven in origin. I’ve never seen anything like this. Did elves and humans live together?” asked Jowan.  
“There are no legends or stories I ever heard that mention anything like this. It has to date from the time before the Tevinters. Maybe from the time of Arlathan,” remarked Rosalyn. “It’s amazing.”  
Alistair was fascinated but wary, “We should keep moving. We know we aren’t the only things in here.”  
They made their way down long hallways, stopping to fight giant spiders and the occasional walking corpse. Zevran remarked, “Didn’t we do all this at Redcliffe?”  
“Apparently not enough,” said Jowan as he loosed a fire spell on a group of corpses.  
Continuing down the halls of the ruin led them to a large chamber from which they heard a noise Rosalyn and Alistair had heard before. ”Dragon,” they both said at once.  
“Crap! Fan out! Jowan, ice and lightning; Lyn, your best arrows. Go!” hollered Alistair as he charged the dragon.  
He and Zevran moved in and out, keeping the dragon distracted as Jowan and Rosalyn rained arrows and magic down upon it. When Jowan had used his mana, he pulled his bow and began to shoot arrows.  
“That’s it, Jowan, aim for its chest. I’ll go for the head,” Rosalyn said. Together, they kept shooting until the beast finally dropped and was finished off with a sword to the neck, courtesy of Alistair. “Excellent, Jowan! You did everything right!”  
“Thanks. I was worried I’d miss too many,” replied the mage, smiling.  
Alistair looked at Jowan as he sheathed his sword and strapped on his shield. “Good job,” he said, gruffly.  
Jowan was dumbstruck, “Thank you, Ser Alistair.”  
Alistair tossed him a lyrium potion and started down the next hall saying, “Stop calling me that.” Rosalyn smiled at Jowan as Zevran patted him on the back. He had done well. They turned and followed Alistair down the hall.

@@@@@

At the end of the hall, they found a passage that led down to a lower level. They took the opportunity to rest and eat before going on as they had no idea if they would be able to later. Rosalyn created a stew of roots and herbs mixed with the last of the deer meat they had been given at the Dalish camp. Jowan used a fire spell to cook it enough for eating.  
“Shouldn’t we rest? I know Jowan’s tired and his mana is low. I could use a break too,” she told Alistair. “What do you think?”  
“We’ve been at it for hours, so…yes. Let’s take a break. It’s so dark down here it won’t matter what time of day it is, it’s still dark.” He stretched out and reached for Rosalyn and drew her down to him, holding her close to him as they lay.  
Rosalyn looked up at Jowan and Zevran, “A break then. Zevran, take first watch, I’ll take second. Jowan, you go ahead and sleep, we need you at full strength.”  
“Of course, Rosalyn,” Jowan replied. To Zevran he said, “Let me know if you need me.”  
Zevran nodded and patted the mage on the shoulder, then built a little fire. “To chase away the demons,” he said.  
Three hours later the group moved on, rested and recharged. Zevran scouted ahead a bit and returned quickly. “There is something you need to see, I think,” he said, motioning them to follow.  
They entered a large room with a once beautiful vaulted ceiling, now covered in vines and roots. Sarcophagi were scattered all around the room in neat rows. A raised platform was in the center, on which the shade of a ghostly elven boy stood. He was distraught and crying, "Mamae? Mamae na mara san..."  
“What is it, child?” asked Rosalyn in the elven tongue.  
The child merely looked more distraught at her words, crying, “Mamae? Mamae? Mamae?” The boy ran from the room and Rosalyn looked at Alistair and shrugged.  
The group prepared to enter the next room, only to find the door sealed and locked. Rosalyn got out her tools and began to work the lock, causing Alistair to sigh as he watched her. “What?” she asked. “We need to get in there.”  
“I just love to watch you do that. Makes you look…I don’t know…mysterious and dangerous,” he said. “Very sexy,” he added in a whisper.  
Rosalyn blushed at his comment. “Mmmm…Well, I’ll have to show you how some time, then.” He moaned quietly at her answer, thinking warm thoughts  
“You know, we could leave you two alone for a while, but I don’t think the walking dead will be any easier to fight with just Jowan and me,” said Zevran, anxiously.  
When she looked around, Rosalyn saw the room filling with the corpses of the walking dead. Dozens were streaming into the room. “Get it open!” yelled Alistair to her as he drew his sword and swung at the first corpse, Zevran following. Jowan stayed with her, casting spells and protecting her as she worked.  
The corpses kept coming in waves as they sliced through them, one by one: but they were losing ground rapidly and Rosalyn was no closer to getting the door opened. Jowan finally called out, “Alistair, Zevran, to me!” His hands rose as he gathered his power, casting a shield spell over them to protect them. “Protect yourselves! Turn away!” he yelled as he began chanting.  
Alistair and Zevran backed up to where Rosalyn knelt by the door. Alistair put up his shield as he knelt down next to her, covering them both as much as he could. Zevran ducked and covered near them. Jowan kept chanting as his power increased; he took his dagger and sliced his left wrist, allowing the blood to drain onto the floor before him. As the chanting ended, a tremendous force of energy pulsed from the mage and hit the corpses, disintegrating them where they stood.  
Rosalyn stood up and looked around her at the carnage. Jowan sank to the ground before her and she ran to him, reaching into her pocket for cloths to bind his wrist. There were no corpses left standing and they were alive. Alistair, however, was not so happy.  
“You used blood magic! Here! With us right next to you!” he yelled.  
“And we are alive, because of it, Alistair. Would you rather we were dead?” she pointed out.  
“That’s not the point and you know it!” Turning on Jowan, he continued, “You said you wouldn’t use it anymore.”  
Jowan looked at Rosalyn and sighed, then stood up and faced Alistair. “I never promised not to use it to help you. I would never use it to hurt. If you wish to be rid of me then do so. You can use my knife to do it.” He held out his dagger to Alistair, who took it. Jowan knelt before him as if he were a condemned man, pulling his hair back and exposing his neck for the cut.  
Alistair looked down at the man on his knees before him and then out at the piles of corpses scattered everywhere. He turned to Rosalyn, standing next to him, a pleading look in her eyes. Looking down at Jowan, he dropped the dagger with a clang on the once polished marble floor, walked a few yards away and sat down on a sarcophagus, his head in his hands. Zevran bent down and helped Jowan up from the floor and checked his wound, giving him a drink of healing potion. Together they took their packs and walked a few yards away in the opposite direction.  
Rosalyn stood still and watched Alistair sitting on the sarcophagus. He was quiet, rummaging through his pack, looking for something. Turning, she knelt down to work on the door, listening to the sound of the whetstone as it crossed his sword.

@@@@@

After an hour’s work, she still hadn’t managed to open the door. “The lock is just too old and I’m not sure there isn’t an enchantment or two at work,” she complained. “First time I haven’t gotten in.”  
“I exhausted all my methods and those of the Crows. Jowan?” asked Zevran.  
Jowan was pensive, “Well, there might be one way. Do you still have any fire bombs left, Rosalyn?” She handed him one and he opened the bottle, pouring the fluid onto the door and into the lock. “We will need cover, this might get nasty.” The three of them joined Alistair at the other side of the room. Jowan summoned his power and threw a fire spell at the door, bursting it into flames. A second spell of lightning followed the first and door creaked loudly and exploded, revealing a new passage through the ruin.  
“Excellent work my friend! We should have had you in the Crows. It would have saved me a lot of time,” exclaimed Zevran.  
“Well done Jowan!” said Rosalyn as she stowed her tools. “Shall we move on?” She looked down at Alistair who had put away his whetstone and sheathed his sword.  
“Let’s go then,” he said brusquely, leading the way through the door.  
Making their way down the long halls, they found themselves in battle much as they had on the first level. Spiders and corpses were their chief targets, but never in the numbers as they had seen before. Rosalyn was relieved that there would be no more need for Jowan’s blood magic. She reached out with her senses to feel their way, only to find herself reading Alistair instead. He had not spoken since they entered the new section and she was worried. She sensed disappointment and some anger in him.  
At last they reached the end of the hallway, finding another locked door waiting for them. Rosalyn pulled out her tools and made short work of it. “It’s been used recently,” she said. She looked up to find Alistair watching her, a faraway look in his eye. She smiled and stood up, going on tiptoe to kiss him. He jumped at her kiss and returned it, smiling as he pulled away. “Welcome back,” she whispered.  
He cleared his throat, “We should…move on.” She nodded and opened the door, revealing a more challenging scenario for them than the corpses.  
Traps were scattered all over the large room and guarded by the walking dead. Alistair moved to enter the room and she grabbed him by the edges of his breastplate and pushed him against the wall. “Hey!” he cried.  
“Don’t move,” she warned. Stepping up to the doorway she picked up a rock from the floor, ordering, “Step back!” as she threw the rock as hard as she could at a spot on the floor of the room, ducking for cover next to Alistair. There was a rumble and fire streamed up from the floor, enough to kill. “That’s why,” she said, brushing herself off.  
“Well, crap,” said Alistair, “What now?”  
Rosalyn thought about it and came up with a plan. “Zevran and I will take out the corpses with our bows. Jowan, cast some lightning spells where I tell you to set off the traps. Alistair….I don’t know what you can do right now. I’m sorry.”  
Alistair looked down at her then reached over and took Jowan’s bow and quiver. He nocked an arrow and drew, aiming at a corpse in the back of the room. The creature fell forward with an arrow dead center to the chest. “You were saying?”  
“Uhhhh….yes…by all means, shoot,” she stuttered, amazed. ”I still don’t know what to think when I’m around you.”  
He looked down at her and winked. “And I said, don’t.” She smiled back.  
The four of them stood in the doorway, shooting at the corpses and traps until all the corpses lay dead and burned. Rosalyn and Zevran worked their way across the room together, disarming the remaining traps until they reached the other side of the room. Before them stood another locked door, but this one was greased and had been used recently.  
“We are getting closer,” Jowan said. “It is not far.”  
“Let’s go,” said Alistair, handing the bow back to Jowan. He reached for the door handle.

@@@@@

Making their way down the hallways, they began to notice that the areas they were passing through were cleared of rubble and greenery. “It’s like someone is reclaiming this part of the ruin,” noticed Jowan.  
“We must be getting closer to their lair,” said Zevran as he dismantled a small trap. “The traps aren’t complicated. This was a simple animal trap, camouflaged by grass and leaves.”  
“So this means that whoever is setting them isn’t as clever as those who built this place. That’s an advantage,” commented Rosalyn as she looked around her.  
Alistair wasn’t convinced, “We still haven’t found them.”  
The next door led them to an immense entrance hall with a grand staircase leading down. Jowan became alert immediately, stopping them with a hand. ”Look,” he said as he pointed ahead, “Wards.”  
“Can you dismantle them?” asked Alistair. Jowan looked suspiciously at him, it was the first time they had spoken in hours.  
“Not all of them, I’m afraid. I could take care of one or two though. That should be enough to get us through them.” He got to work, using a combination of magic and manipulation to break the wards. After an hour or so he was able to break through three of them, allowing them to continue on down the stairs. As they reached the bottom, they found themselves in a battle with more walking dead and something that neither Rosalyn nor Alistair had ever seen.  
“Maker’s breath! What is that thing?” Alistair exclaimed as they ducked and covered.  
Jowan shook his head, “It’s called an Arcane Horror, Ser Alistair. It’s what happens to possessed mages after they die. It’s why they must be killed. If they die a natural death, they become that. It will be very powerful and hard to destroy.”  
“You mean that’s what you will become?”  
“If I was truly possessed, yes, I would become that. I don’t plan on it, though.” Alistair looked sideways at him, “It will take all your Templar abilities to defeat it and then some. But….I have my own means, if you are willing. I won’t do it if you don’t wish me to as I know what you think of me.”  
“And just what would you do?” he asked.  
Jowan fingered his staff, “I can use a blood magic spell like the one I used before to weaken it enough for the rest of you to kill it. I’ll use my own blood, so you three will be in no danger. If you doubt me, you can use my own dagger to kill me. I will understand.”  
Alistair looked down at his sword, shining bright and sharp in his hand. He turned to Rosalyn, sitting next to him, “It’s your call this time,” she said.  
He sighed deeply and turned to Jowan, “Do it.” Rosalyn put her hand on his arm and squeezed. He stood up and called on his power, “To buy you some time,” he told Jowan, who nodded and began his chant.  
Alistair cast Holy Smite at the Horror and drained its mana just as Jowan’s chanting reached a fevered pitch. He pulled his dagger and slit his wrist, his blood pouring out onto the floor. Gathering all his power, he cast a force spell, propelling the Horror to the back wall, shattering it. Jowan hit the floor with a thud and lay still, his life-force draining out of him.  
He woke a few minutes or an hour later, he didn’t know. Alistair was bandaging his wrist and he was leaning against Rosalyn. Zevran handed him a healing potion and smiled and patted his shoulder before he took off to check on the Horror. “I…well…uhhhh, good job,” Alistair said. Rosalyn smiled at him and caught the barest of winks as he joined Zevran on the floor.  
“Are you okay now?” she asked Jowan as he slowly got up.  
He shook his head to clear it, “Yes. Yes, I think so. Does this mean I’m not that bad after all?”  
Rosalyn laughed. “Actually, I think it does. He still hates blood magic and all it stands for, but asking permission seems to work. I wouldn’t make a habit of it though. He’s still very wary of you.”  
“That I can understand.” He rose to his feet and brushed himself off.  
“Jowan?” she asked.  
“What?”  
“Welcome to the Grey Wardens.”  
Jowan looked down at her and smiled, finally at home somewhere.

@@@@@

With all the corpses and enemies on the level defeated and the traps dismantled, the group made their way down a long hall towards a small room containing two sarcophagi. In the middle of the floor was a stairwell that led down to a lower level. The stairwell was filled with water, forming a little pool in the center of the room. They scouted around the other rooms for several minutes, searching for another way before returning to the room and the pool.  
Zevran removed his pack and pulled out a long coil of rope he carried there. Stopping to remove his weapons and armor, he tied the rope around his waist and jumped into the pool. Handing the end to Alistair, he asked, “Would you be so kind?”  
“Sure,” Alistair answered. Zevran picked up one of his daggers and Jowan handed him a rod that he’d enchanted with a light spell. “Be careful.” With that, the elf dove into the pool, disappearing through the stairwell.  
Ten minutes later, he returned, bedraggled but whole. “There is another passage on the other side. The stairs lead down but then go back up. It is a short swim but I do not recommend wearing armor.” He hefted himself up onto the side of the pool.  
Alistair nodded and started stripping out of his heavy plate. “Lyn, help me out here, would you?”  
Rosalyn backed up slowly towards the doorway, her face white as a sheet. Alistair noticed her sudden change of attitude and put his hand out to stop her, “What is it?”  
She opened her mouth slowly, trying to form the words. Alistair took her by the shoulder, his hand cupping her cheek. “Lyn? What is it, love?”  
“I can’t swim,” she whispered, terrified.  
Alistair blinked, “You what?”  
“I can’t swim,” she said.  
“Oh. Not at all?”  
“No! Not a bit! There were no swimming holes at the Alienage. Water was for drinking and washing, not swimming!” Her emotions were getting the best of her. “I…can’t do this!” She jerked her arms free and started to flee, but Alistair was quicker and grabbed her around the waist, turning her in his arms and holding her.  
“Shhh, love, shhh. We’ll figure something out, don’t worry,” he told her, holding her close. She wrapped her arms around him, burying her face in his neck. “Zevran is there no way around?” he asked.  
“Perhaps, but do we have the time to look for it? I believe they are right there. All signs on the other side point to it,” he answered.  
“I could put you under a sleep spell and we could drag you,” suggested Jowan. “We would have to be fast though, or she would drown.” Rosalyn’s eyes got bigger and she gasped. “I don’t think I’m helping,” Jowan remarked, “Sorry.”  
“Zevran, take Jowan and go on. Wait for us on the other side. We shouldn’t be long,” Alistair told them. Jowan stripped out of his armor, tying it to the rope so they could drag it. Entering the pool, they disappeared under the water. A few minutes later, a lightning bolt flew out of the water and hit the ceiling, Jowan’s signal they had made it.  
“He’s way too flashy sometimes,” joked Alistair. Rosalyn didn’t respond; she was shaking so much. “Lyn? Listen to me love. You can do this, I know you can. Can you hold your breath?” She nodded slightly. “Good. That’s all you have to do. Just hold your breath, close your eyes, and hold on to me. I promise I’ll get you through. Okay?”  
“I…I can’t,” she replied, still shaking.  
Alistair took her face in his hands and forced her to look up at him. “Lyn, love, do you trust me?”  
“Yes,” she whispered. “But I’m…scared.”  
“I know love. But I won’t let you down. You have to trust me and do what I say. Can you do that?”  
Rosalyn looked at the pool, remembering how long it took Zevran to get back and for Jowan to send the signal. She shook her head no, saying, “Yes, I think so.”  
Alistair laughed at her gesture. “Okay. Take off your armor and tie it up like Zevran and Jowan did. Tie it securely to the rope. Can you do that?”  
She nodded and started removing her armor, helping him with his buckles. They tied it to the rope and set it by the pool. “Now, we’ll start slowly. Sit down on the side and put your feet in the water. Just your feet.” He took her hand and led her to the pool. He sat down and pulled her down with him, her feet splashing. The water was warm and comfortable and she relaxed a little.  
Alistair held her close, his arm around her waist. “How’s that? Feeling better?” When she nodded, he continued, “And here I had all these plans for a midnight swim with you some time. Serves me right for fantasizing.”  
“You dream of taking me swimming?” she asked.  
“Among other things, yes, I do.”  
She looked down, feeling a little sad, “I spoiled it, didn’t I?”  
“Just put it off a bit, is all. Ready to try some more?” She nodded slowly. He hopped off the side into the pool, standing chest deep on the stairs. He held out his arms for her and she slid off, grabbing him around the neck tightly. “Careful now! I do need to breathe.”  
Rosalyn loosened her grip and pulled back a little. She let her legs hang loose, floating in front of him. Alistair’s arms came around her waist and pulled her so her legs were wrapped around him, his lips coming down on hers. She sighed and returned the kiss, exploring his mouth eagerly. Minutes later, both were panting, but she was more relaxed. “Ready?” he asked.  
“No,” she answered, “Let’s get this over with.”  
“Take three deep breaths and let them out, then take the biggest breath you can, close your eyes, hold it and me.” She nodded and took the first breath, then the second and third. Alistair swung her around to his back as she drew in her fourth breath and held it, diving under the water and kicking.  
They swam slowly and Rosalyn began to panic half way through and let out her breath. Alistair reached back and clamped his hand over her mouth and nose, keeping her from breathing in the water and kicked off the floor of the pool, propelling them up to the surface of the other side. Jowan and Zevran were waiting to grab her and lift her out. She lay on the floor panting and coughing up water, alive and through.  
Alistair coughed and climbed out of the pool then bent down to pick her up and sit down, holding her on his lap as she caught her breath. When he was sure she was all right, he set her down gently, and grabbed the rope with Zevran’s help, pulling their bundle of armor and weapons through. Jowan used magic to dry them off, ready to put on again. He and Zevran dressed and left them alone to scout around the area.  
When she had recovered her wits, Rosalyn looked over at Alistair sitting next to her. She threw herself into his arms and held him as if it were the last time. “I’m sorry I doubted you,” she whispered, tears running down her face. “You really do love me.”  
He looked into her eyes, cupping her face in his hands, “Yes, I do.” His mouth found hers and showed her how much he did. When he released her, she whispered, “I love you too.”  
“What did you say?” he asked, not sure if he heard her right.  
“I love you,” she repeated louder. “I do.”  
Alistair was dumbstruck. “Maker’s breath!” he exclaimed, holding her tightly. “I thought I’d never hear anyone say that to me!”  
“Then I’ll never stop,” she said; and she wouldn’t.

@@@@@

Happiness was short lived for them as they were soon forced to dress and continue on their way. Jowan and Zevran both smiled at Rosalyn when they returned from their scout, and Zevran winked at her while patting Alistair on the back. Jowan politely nodded his head at Alistair, to which Alistair replied, “Stop that.” Jowan looked to Rosalyn and smiled.  
Rosalyn and Zevran kept dismantling traps as they went, noticing that the traps were less frequent but were newer in age based on their wear and tear. “We have to be getting closer, “said Zevran.  
They continued down a hallway until they found another locked door. Rosalyn opened it carefully, listening for any sounds on the other side. “There is movement,” she told them.  
“Zevran and I will go down the middle, Jowan and Lyn will take the sides. Be ready,” said Alistair. To Rosalyn he whispered, “Be careful, love.” She nodded, nocking an arrow and moving to the right as Jowan went left.  
Alistair opened the door slowly. Seeing nothing on the other side, he entered, finding himself in a room closed off with barricades forming an ‘S’ curve. He smelled trap and backed up, only to have four werewolves appear from out of nowhere to attack him. He struck at the first one, slicing into its exposed belly as Zevran moved around for a backstab.  
Rosalyn hit a second werewolf in the chest as it moved to strike at Alistair from behind and Jowan cast a freeze spell on the third. Zevran and Alistair teamed to bring the fourth down as Rosalyn took out the third one with an arrow to its neck.  
Alistair caught his breath as he surveyed the damage they’d done. “That was a little close, I think.” He looked at his companions, his gaze finally resting on Rosalyn, “Okay?”  
“Yes, I think so,” she replied. He put his arm around her, kissing the top of her head. “We should keep moving though. No telling who heard that.” He nodded and they moved on, dismantling some traps before coming to a staircase leading to a lower level.  
Zevran went first, daggers drawn as they descended, turning a corner to find a larger chamber with a raised dais in the middle, on which three werewolves stood in nonthreatening positions, their front paws raised.  
“Stop! Brothers and sisters, be at ease. We wish no one else hurt. Are you willing to parley?” said a grizzled grey wolf that stood at the front of the group.  
Rosalyn stepped forward, her empty hands outstretched, signaling for her companions to do the same. “We are talking now.”  
“I have been sent on behalf of the lady. She wishes to speak to you of things you should now, provided you will parley in peace.”  
“If you were so willing to talk, why didn’t you earlier? I could have saved all of us a lot of trouble and loss,” Alistair said.  
“Swiftrunner did not wish it but the Lady disagreed so we will acquiesce to her wishes,” explained the Gatekeeper.  
“Then why does this Lady not come here herself?” asked Rosalyn.  
The Gatekeeper growled his disapproval of her, “We will protect her to our last and would not chance her coming to any harm.”  
Alistair looked down at Rosalyn, she nodded and he spoke, “Take us to your Lady.  
“Then follow me,” said the Gatekeeper, leading the way.

@@@@@

The Gatekeeper led them into a large chamber that was more forest than building. Vines hung from everywhere, and trees and plants sprung from the stone itself. A dais was set in the middle of the chamber much like the other large chambers they had encountered. Rosalyn could see sarcophagi lining the edges near the walls.  
On the dais stood a female figure like nothing any of them had seen. She was possessed of a grey-green complexion and dark hair and was dressed in no clothing that was recognizable as such. Instead there were vines that snaked their way around her body in strategically convenient places. Jowan gasped at her, whether from desire or shock, she couldn’t tell. Zevran’s eyes grew wider and he whispered, “Now this, I like.”  
Alistair stopped dead in his tracks at the sight of her. Rosalyn looked over at him, only to find his mouth hanging open as he stared at the Lady. She cocked her eyebrows at him, disgusted, calling, “Alistair?” He shook his head and closed his mouth, looking down at her. When he saw her look, he turned red with embarrassment, muttering, “Sorry, love.” Rosalyn shook her head and thought how she really needed to bed him soon. He caught what she was feeling with his Warden sense and whispered, “Hmmm.”  
“Stop that,” she whispered back. Alistair smiled knowingly, and together they approached the Lady.  
“I bid you welcome mortals. I am the Lady of the Forest,” she announced as she met them at the dais edge.  
Alistair stepped forward first, “What did you want to talk about?”  
The Lady smiled at him, causing Alistair to blush and Rosalyn to smile behind her hand, “I am sure you have questions. There are things that Zathrian would not have told you.”  
“How do you know what he has or hasn’t told us?” asked Rosalyn.  
“There are things he would not tell you because you need to decide for yourself whether you need to know. “ She walked over to one of the white wolves and put out her hand to pet it absently. “It was Zathrian who created the curse these creatures suffer, the same curse that plagues Zathrian’s own people now. “  
Swiftrunner stepped forward into a defensive position. Zevran and Jowan went for their weapons but Alistair signaled them to stand back. The werewolf spoke, “A young elven boy and girl were taken from the clan by humans long ago. They tortured the boy and killed him while they raped the girl and left her for dead. When she found out later she was with child, she…killed herself.”  
Rosalyn gasped as the words spoken by Swiftrunner hit home. That girl could have easily been her not that long ago. She looked down at the ground as she wrestled with her emotions. Alistair reached out and took her hand in his, whispering, “It wasn’t you.”  
She looked up and saw his care and worries for her and nodded. Looking back at Swiftrunner she said, “So Zathrian cursed them.”  
“He summoned a terrible spirit, binding it to the body of a great wolf; thus Witherfang came to be,” he replied.  
The Lady continued, “A spirit as twisted and savage just as Witherfang is. The humans were infected with the curse and driven into the forest. When the humans moved on, their cursed brethren remained behind as pitiful and mindless animals.”  
‘When I found you, Lady, you gave me peace,” said Swiftrunner as he bowed before her.  
“I have shown Swiftrunner another side to his bestial nature, soothing his anger and rage and his humanity emerged. He brought the others to me.”  
Zevran was losing patience with the whole dance around the truth. As an elf who considered himself Dalish, it was too close to home, “Why should we care about any of this?”  
She turned her gaze on Zevran but without malice, “The crimes committed against Zathrian’s children were tragic but they were committed centuries ago and those who are at fault are long dead. We seek to end the curse. We have sent word to Zathrian each time the clan entered the forest but he has refused us. We can no longer be denied.”  
Swiftrunner growled loudly, “So we spread the curse to his people! He will have to end the curse to free them!”  
The Lady looked at Rosalyn, whom she could tell was a kindred soul, “Please bring Zathrian here. If he refuses, tell him I will ensure that Witherfang is never found and he will never cure his clan.”  
“Very well, I will bring Zathrian here,” Rosalyn told her. The werewolves showed them a way out, quicker than the way they came. As they climbed the long stairs to the entrance hall, she knew things weren’t going to be easy.

@@@@@

“That was interesting,“ commented Jowan to no one.  
Zevran was still unconvinced, “At least the view was good.”  
“Let’s keep moving, it’s a long way back to the clan,” said Alistair. He looked down at Rosalyn. She hadn’t spoken since they left the Lady’s chamber. His Warden sense told him her feelings were overwhelming her. He wanted to get her out of the ruins as quickly as he could.  
As they entered the entrance hall, they came upon Zathrian, examining the dead bodies of the werewolves they had killed earlier. “There you are,” he said.  
Rosalyn spoke angrily, “What are you doing here?”  
“The forest is safer; thanks to the path you have carved, so I have followed you. Did you get the heart?”  
“No,” she said.  
Zathrian’s tone and demeanor changed suddenly. Jowan felt it and drew his staff, gathering his power. He looked at Alistair and nodded. Zathrian was the source of the curse, as the Lady had said. The elven mage asked her, “Then why are you leaving the ruin?”  
Rosalyn stood her ground, and Alistair came forward to stand next to her, his hand on his sword. “We were coming to bring you here to speak to the Lady of the Forest,” he said.  
“So that is what she calls herself now?” He laughed at what he thought was the Lady’s pretense.  
Alistair stepped forward, “You are coming with us.”  
Zathrian laughed, “You do know that the Lady is Witherfang?”  
“I thought as much. You will come with us and speak to her,” replied Rosalyn.  
He shook his head, “Yes, I created her from the spirit of this ancient forest and bound her with a wolf thus her nature is as the forest itself. The curse came from her and those she afflicts become as savage as she.”  
“The curse came from you,” accused Jowan.  
“After they attacked my clan? They deserve all they have suffered for what I suffered then!”  
“You will accompany us to speak with her,” Jowan ordered, his power building. “We will not help you make this worse. These people have suffered enough.”  
“Just meet with them, Zathrian. That’s all we propose,” pleaded Rosalyn. “We will insure your protection.”  
“Very well, lead on. I would hear what they have to say.” He followed them down the stairs to the Lady’s chamber.  
Zathrian approached the dais to speak first, “So there you are spirit, with the beasts that follow you. They have not changed from what their ancestors were. Their twisted shapes mirror their twisted hearts,” Zathrian spat.  
The Lady looked down on him with something that could only be called pity. “It was they who gave me this name. I help them and they follow me.”  
Swift runner stepped in front of her, “He is not here to talk!”  
“You are here to destroy me and that is what I would have you do. I wish you to end my life and return me to whence I came. It is my only desire,” she said.  
“Let us kill him! His death will bring an end to the curse! Kill them all!” yelled Swiftrunner.  
“They turn on you as much as me Grey Wardens! Kill them now or get out of my way!” screamed Zathrian.  
Rosalyn shook her head, “No. I won’t help you.”  
Alistair, Zevran and Jowan stepped up to her. “We won’t help you perpetuate this evil,” declared Alistair.  
“Then die with them!” yelled Zathrian as he gathered his power to him. Jowan was ready, casting a shield spell over the group as the ice storm began. Alistair drew his sword and followed Zevran into the fight, heading straight for Zathrian. He drained mana from the mage to weaken him, striking him down.  
Rosalyn and Jowan worked on his minions, ancient sylvan trees, enchanted and corrupted. They attacked at will so Rosalyn and Jowan used fire spells and bombs to stop them. As the trees lay burning, they concentrated their fire on Zathrian, finally bringing him down.  
“Enough!” the old mage cried. “I cannot go on. I will do as you wish spirit.”  
The Lady put out her hands in offering, “You are my maker, Zathrian. I have known pain, love, hope and fear because of you but I desire an end. Put an end to me and this curse. Save your people and mine.”  
Zathrian looked around him at the faces of his curse. Finally looking back at the Lady he said, “I am ashamed. I will end this; I have lived to long.” He raised his staff and a great power emanated from it. Jowan reached for Rosalyn and Alistair’s sleeves, pulling them out of its path and casting a shield spell on them. It gathered strength and the Lady began to glow and diminish. As she disappeared, Zathrian fell to the floor, dead. When she looked at the werewolves that surrounded where the Lady had been, they began to glow and slowly transform into their original forms of human and elf. They looked at each other amazed, and then broke out in cries of celebration and happiness.  
With a last look at Rosalyn and her companions, Swift runner said “Thank you…we will never forget you,” and ran from the ruin.

The Road to Denerim

The new keeper, Lanaya was more than willing to honor the treaty, promising to send to Redcliffe as many troops as she could muster to fight the Darkspawn. Alistair and Rosalyn thanked her for her help and leadership then took their leave, following their Dalish guides out of the forest towards Denerim, their next destination.  
Rosalyn was quiet as they left, her thoughts troubled. The group camped just outside of the forest, near a stream. After supper, she took a walk, finding herself at the edge of the stream contemplating her performance during their last task.  
Alistair watched her as she wandered, knowing she was troubled. He sensed disappointment, anxiety and some sadness, a mix of emotions guaranteed to overwhelm. He stood just out of sight of her and watched, smiling as she removed her boots and socks and dangled her feet in the water. He had never noticed that she didn’t go to the stream to bathe with the other women. Instead, she preferred to get a bucket and wash from it. Even then her fear of water was affecting her. The fact she was contemplating actually entering the water was admirable and damn attractive.  
She let out a big sigh and without looking up said; “Now I hear you thinking.”  
He laughed, “So it’s not the taint after all.” He walked over to the edge of the stream and sat down, removing his boots and socks and letting his feet soak in the water beside her. “You wandered away by yourself again.”  
“No I didn’t. You were there,” she replied, watching the sparkles from the setting sun hit the water. “You are always there.” She leaned her head on his shoulder and rested it there. His arm came around her shoulders and he kissed the top of her head.  
“The elves, Zathrian, the curse; it was almost too much wasn’t it?”  
“Yes. Zathrian’s daughter could have been me, Alistair. I know you said she wasn’t, but I feel that I could have been that desperate if I hadn’t had the skills and the luck I did. Vaughan was a pig and I don’t regret his death; I do regret what it caused, though. It is my version of the curse.” Tears fell as she talked.  
Alistair held her close, stroking her hair. “Lyn, I promise you, when we get to Denerim we will break into the Alienage to get your family out. We’ll get to the bottom of this.”  
She nodded, “Perhaps we could tell them Darkspawn have found a way in and the whole area must be evacuated. They might buy that.”  
“We’ll tell them a dying prince from Rivain has left a large amount of money at a local bank and they can have part of it if they agree to let him use their account to store it. All they have to do is go to the bank and arrange it.” They laughed hard, releasing the tension they had both been building for the last few days. When they had finished, he turned her in his arms and kissed her, sighing against her mouth. “Maker, you taste good. It’s like I’ve come home,” he whispered. “I never want to leave.”  
“Then don’t,” she replied, her lips meeting his as he pulled her closer.  
They continued tasting and touching each other, trying to build the passion they felt, but sighed when it wouldn’t. “Lyn…I…I really think I’m too tired for this. I’m so sorry, “he said sadly.  
She smiled and sighed. “And here I thought it was just me.”  
“Would you be too disappointed if we just went to sleep? I promise, in Denerim I’ll get you the best room with the best bed in the best inn in town and we’ll stay there for as long as you want. Agreed?”  
Rosalyn laughed, “I agree. I’ll spring for the wine.”  
“Come on, love, I hear a cold and uncomfortable bed calling our names. Let’s not make it wait.” He rose and held out his hand to help her up.  
“As long as it has you in it, I don’t care…much,” she said, taking his hand.  
He laughed then bent down and kissed her forehead, “Good to know, love. Good to know.” They picked up their boots and walked back to camp.

Denerim

The next morning the weary group headed to Denerim early, eager to take advantage of the comforts the city could offer them. Alistair was good to his word and ordered the best room at the best inn, including a bed that could hold four people comfortably. “Room to move around, I guess,” he said as he stood looking at it. “I can do that.” Rosalyn laughed at his face as he stared.  
“I don’t think we’ll need that much room,” she replied, still laughing. “Shouldn’t we get a smaller one? I could get lost in there.”  
“No way! I said the best room, best bed, in the best inn and this is it. Besides, I’d never let you get lost.” He put his arms around her, bending to kiss her. She responded by encircling his neck with her arms, then squealing as he lifted her up and tossed her on the bed.  
“Alistair!” she cried. He laughed and launched himself at the bed, landing next to her.  
“See? Not so hard to get lost. Care for a tumble, milady?”  
Rosalyn shook her head sadly, “We can’t and you know it. We have armor to get repaired, weapons to be mended, supplies to purchase and you have to go see the Arl’s seneschal at the estate. There are probably a dozen missives with both our names on them. And you wanted to find your sister, too.”  
He sighed, leaning back and looking up at the ceiling. “You’re right. Let’s work really hard and fast, get them all done and meet back here. Then we’ll order some food and not answer the door for a week.”  
“That’s a plan I like,” she agreed, “I’ll see you later.” She kissed him hard, bringing out a moan of pleasure. He reached for her to draw her back but she was too fast, scooting off the bed before he could get a grip.  
“You are a cruel woman sometimes, love,” he complained.  
“It’s good for you. Makes you want me more. Get up and let’s go. Where to first?”  
“The estate first. In case there’s anything urgent,” he replied as he got up.  
They grabbed Leliana and Sten and headed out the door, giving Zevran, Jowan and Morrigan orders to locate good but reasonably priced merchants for their supply needs. Wynne stayed at the end to take care of the mending and to brew some potions for the group. Both groups left, splitting ways in the street.  
Walking through the market, they passed the Alienage gate only to find it still locked and inaccessible. Rosalyn’s eyes were misty as she thought of her family trapped inside with no hope. When Alistair saw her he motioned to Leliana and whispered to her. She nodded and left with Sten following. “What was that about?” Rosalyn asked.  
“I sent them to see if there is any more information on the Alienage. She’s pretty and sly, so she can find things out. Sten is along for looks and her protection. Let’s see what she comes up with,” he answered. “I promised we’d do something and I’m going to.”  
Rosalyn looked up at him, “You did,” she said softly so only he could hear.  
He smiled and leaned down, whispering in her ear, “I promise.” She smiled and nodded as he said, “I will get them out.”  
They continued on to the estate and had walked about a hundred yards when Alistair turned to her and said, “Wait right here.” He disappeared into the crowd of shoppers at the market for a few minutes, returning with two packages wrapped in brown paper. He slipped one under his arm and the other he handed to Rosalyn. “For you, milady.”  
“What’s all this?” she exclaimed as she took the package, “Did I miss something? My nameday isn’t until next month.”  
“Really? What day? I’ll have to remember.”  
“It’s the twelfth. What is it, really?”  
“Call it an early Nameday present, if you will. I saw it when we were here before and had to get it for you. I’ve been saving.”  
Rosalyn slowly opened the paper to reveal a small amulet of silverite in the shape of a rose, polished to a high gleam, hanging from a silver chain. “What…Alistair! You really shouldn’t have. That money should be spent on yourself, not me. Your socks all have holes in them and you need new shirts and breeks.”  
“Wynne is knitting me new socks as we speak and Leliana promised to mend my breeks and shirts and make me some new ones. I wanted you to have it. It’s your favorite.” He took the amulet and helped her put it on.  
“So that’s why Wynne was staying in today. And it explains why she had to run out and buy some more wool. So what did you have to do to get them to help you?”  
“I have to sharpen Leliana’s swords and daggers for a month and clean her armor.”  
“And Wynne?”  
“That’s what this is. She was adamant about it. It took me weeks to find it; had to call in every favor ever owed me.” He patted the package under his arm.  
Rosalyn eyed the package suspiciously, “Do I want to know what it is?”  
“Umm…probably not. It’s lyrium. She wants to make her own potions and while it’s legal for her to do it, it’s illegal for her to purchase the lyrium. I used my Templar contacts and here it is.”  
“How much did you pay?” she asked warily.  
“Two sovereigns for two pounds, refined. That’s better than the Chantry gets.”  
“I could have gotten you five for that.”  
He looked down at her admiringly, “Really? I guess I should have asked you. Leave it to me to fall in love with a smuggler and then not use her services.”  
Rosalyn laughed, “Just as well. Most of my contacts are more likely to kill us as soon as deal with us now that we are Wardens. You didn’t do too badly on your own. I am very impressed. Makes me just want you more.”  
He stepped closer and looked down at her, his gaze smoldering, “So you like the dangerous, shifty ones, do you?”  
Her pulse raced, “I do.”  
“So that means I can do this...” His mouth came down on hers in a possessive kiss, marking her as his own. Rosalyn moaned as she opened for him, tasting and touching, oblivious to the world around them. There was only Alistair.  
A deep voice cleared his throat, “Excuse me. This is a public area.” They broke apart and looked to see a city guard standing next to them. “Take your doxy and move on ser.”  
Alistair’s eyes flashed red at the man’s words, stepping towards the man in challenge. Rosalyn sensed his anger and took his arm. “Let’s go,” she said. He let her pull him away, the anger still burning bright.  
They walked on for a few yards, allowing him a chance to cool off. When she sensed he had, she pulled him between two buildings near the Chantry, and took his face in her hands and kissed him. The tension and anger released as he took her in his arms. When he pulled away he said, “Thank you. I was going to hit him. You are no doxy and never have been, love.”  
Rosalyn smiled as her heart warmed to hear his words. “I love you, Alistair,” she said. “Thank you for championing me.”  
“I always will, love,” he told her.

@@@@@

Alistair and Rosalyn skirted the main market around the edge, heading toward the Arl’s estate. As they passed arrow of small houses, Alistair stopped her. “I think that’s my sister’s house. This is the right place. Can we go see?”  
“Sure, let’s go.” She started towards the door, turning to see if he was following. He stood still, mumbling to himself. She listened, realizing he was reciting part of the Chant of Light. “Alistair?”  
“Maybe we should come back. She might not be home, or she could be working, or shopping or something like that.”  
Rosalyn shook her head, “Come on.” She took his hand and pulled him, knocking on the door. A tall thin woman with blond hair opened the door and let them in, asking him if they needed laundry washed and naming her price. It went downhill after that.  
Fifteen minutes later had them scrambling for the door, fifteen sovereigns lighter than when they arrived. The door slammed in their faces, and they could still hear Goldanna ranting. Rosalyn brushed off her tunic and looked up at Alistair. He was looking back at the door with a confused look on his face. “Are you all right?” she asked.  
He shook his head. “Let’s go,” he said, and walked in the direction of the estate with Rosalyn following.  
The gate to the estate was closed so he rang the bell. A guard appeared, “Ah, Ser Alistair. The seneschal is expecting you. Please come in.”  
They were escorted into the receiving room and were joined by the seneschal a few minutes later. Rosalyn tried to get Alistair to talk to her but he shook his head, “Not right now. I need to think, love.” She kissed his cheek and he smiled weakly.  
The seneschal had a pouch full of letters and missives from several people. He was adamant that they read the Arl’s letters first so they obliged. As he read the missive, Alistair’s face fell in disappointment. “Now?” he asked. “He wants me to go now? What’s so important that I have to take off this very minute?’  
“I am not aware of the contents of the pouch ser. I was told by the messenger to make ready for you to leave as soon as you are able. I have a guard and horses waiting for you as we speak,” explained the seneschal. “Forgive me, Ser Alistair, but the Arl was insistent that you leave as soon as possible.”  
“Of course, he was,” he remarked sarcastically. Looking at Rosalyn, he turned back to the man, “Will you excuse us for a few minutes? Ask the kitchen to prepare a pack for me, if you will. Thank you, Albert.” The seneschal bowed slightly and withdrew.  
Alistair walked to the window that overlooked the courtyard below, leaning on the sill until his head came to rest on the window itself. Suddenly he stood up, “Bloody flames of Andraste!” he cursed. “The man can’t leave me alone for a day! I’m not his bloody servant!” His fist came down on the sill, causing the window to shake.  
Rosalyn stood silently, watching him rant as he stared out the window. When he had finished, she walked to him and slipped her arms around his waist, laying her head against his back. He sighed then, realizing she was there, and reached around to pull her into his arms. He buried his face in her hair, his breath slowing until he felt peaceful enough to pull away. “What is it?” she asked softly.  
“Eamon, Goldanna, the Wardens…even you, love. I’m sorry.”  
“Then start at the beginning. What about Eamon?”  
“The bloody man wants me to be so much and I don’t want it. I just want to be a Warden. Is that so terrible? He should be king, not me.”  
“True enough said. He’s already got the plotting and scheming down to an art. Goldanna?”  
He shook his head. “I guess I overestimated that one. Too much hope and not enough reality. I suppose I need to keep that in mind more.”  
“We are all looking for an angle, Alistair; even you. Goldanna is no different. I’m sorry you didn’t realize that.”  
“I suppose. It makes me feel very foolish to not have considered it though.”  
“And the Wardens? What’s all that?” she asked.  
“Nothing really,” he replied. “I had thought it would be more cut and dry than it is.”  
Rosalyn nodded in agreement. “I think we both thought that. There’s just no black and white, only grey there.” She paused and turned to the window. “And what about me?” she asked softly.  
Alistair looked down at her, and ran his hand along her face then buried his fingers in her hair, pulling her towards him. “There’s this,” he said as his mouth met hers in a kiss that shook her to her toes. His hands ran over her body and she moaned as she opened her lips, meeting his mouth. “Maker!” he said into her mouth as he dove in again and again, savoring her taste and feel. When he remembered where he was, he slowly pulled away from her. “I can’t draw breath without thinking about you, I want you so much,” he told her, his voice betraying the disappointment he felt. He would have to leave her. “And now I have to go.”  
She clung to him, her pulse still racing. “I will wait for you here. It won’t be so long. Two days there and two days back and a couple in between; you’ll be back in a week. I’ll keep the bed warm for you…and empty.”  
He laughed, thinking of her sleeping in that big bed all alone. “Promise not to get lost?”  
“You’ll find me, I promise.” She brought his mouth down and kissed him. “Find me quickly, please!”  
“That’s a promise, love.”  
They walked to the stable and Alistair mounted a big roan horse, holding his hand out to her. She was frightened but gave him her hand anyway. He pulled her neatly up in front of him and kicked the horse into motion. Guiding the horse slowly, he held the reins in one hand and brought the other around her waist, pulling her back against him. Rosalyn gasped as she felt his hardness and leaned back, tipping her head for a kiss as they trotted along. All too soon they were back at the inn. “This is it, love,” he whispered, dismounting. He held out his arms and she slid down into them, her feet never touching the ground as he held her tightly, his mouth coming down on hers. “Tell me to stay and I will,” he said into her hair.  
“I want you to but I know you can’t. I will be here waiting,” she said.  
“Promise me you won’t take any jobs that are dangerous or foolish?” he asked.  
“I promise. Only lost children and cleaning jobs.”  
He laughed, “I’ll hold you to that.”  
The guard was restless as they said goodbye, “Ser Alistair, we need to go or we won’t make Redcliffe by morning.”  
Alistair replied, “Of course, captain.” To Rosalyn he said, “I love you so.”  
“I love you, too. Be careful and tell the captain to stop calling you by name. It calls attention to you.” She kissed him one last time and he mounted, kissing her hand when she placed it on his thigh. “You heard the lady. No more names. Let’s go, captain,” he said and they trotted off, leaving her standing alone.  
Rosalyn watched him go until he was out of sight, then turned and went into the inn, up to her room. She sat on the bed, so very large and empty and cried.

@@@@@

Fortunately, her tears were short lived as there was a knock at the door. “Rosalyn? Are you all right, dear?” came Wynne’s voice. “I thought I heard crying.”  
Wiping her eyes on her tunic, she called out, “Come in Wynne.”  
“Are you okay?” the mage asked.  
“I’m fine; just tired. Alistair sent you this,” she said as she handed Wynne the package they had picked up earlier in the market. “He’s had to return to Redcliffe to see the Arl on urgent business.”  
“Of course, I understand. Thank you for this. Would you like to be alone?”  
Rosalyn shook her head, “No, I really don’t. What say you and I go find Zevran and Jowan and see what they have come up with?”  
“Excellent! I’ll have to hide this somewhere though.”  
“Oh I can take care of that.” She walked over to the corner of the room and pressed two fingers against what looked like nails. A small door slid open to reveal a cubby hole. She placed the bundle in the space and closed the door. “I’ve been here before. No one will find it there.”  
“Been here before?” Wynne looked sideways at her, and then called on her power. A single bolt of blue light shot out from her hands and hit the door. “A ward,” she explained. “No one but I will be able to open it.”  
Rosalyn smiled, “I wasn’t always a Grey Warden.”  
Wynne laughed, “No, I don’t think you always were.”  
Together they walked from the inn into the market checking all the armorers and smiths for their companions, finally finding them at Master Wade’s shop. Rosalyn smiled at Wade’s partner in business and life, Herren. “Good morning, Herren. How have you been?”  
“Maker be praised! Rosalyn! We all thought you were dead! Wade! Look who’s here, returned from the dead!” Herren exclaimed.  
Wade was impatient as always, but looked up to see who was there. “Andraste’s knickers! Rosalyn!” He took her in a big hug and set her down. “We heard you were dead with the other Wardens. What brings you back here?”  
“Not dead yet, Master Wade. These are my friends, Wynne, Jowan and Zevran. We need some armor and weapons repaired. Can you help us?”  
“Not the peasant stuff I usually see you in, I hope. I was so hoping I could sell you something grand now that you are a Grey Warden. I’ve been saving the perfect sword for you”  
“I have three sets of Warden issue, the good stuff, and one set of chainmail, extra-large size; all needing repair and polishing. What will you charge me?”  
Wade thought for a minute then whispered furiously to Herren. “How about fifteen sovereigns? That will include replacement plates if needed.”  
Rosalyn counted out her money in her head. She had six sovereigns and a half dozen silver. She looked over at Wynne and Zevran. “How much have you got?”  
Wynne had another sovereign and Jowan was broke but Zevran added fifty silver. “My fun money, dear Warden,” he said.  
“What will you do for five?” she asked Wade.  
“Are things that bad in the Wardens?” he asked. She nodded. “Well, then. Since you are an old friend, I will repair it all for the ten, but I have some friends who could use your particular talents. Work a little for them and I’ll take five in advance and the rest on delivery. Agreed?”  
Herren was incensed. “And just what are we supposed to live on?”  
Rosalyn nodded and held out the money to Herren. “Five sovereigns in advance and I agree. I’ll go get the armor. Who are the friends?”  
“You remember Sgt Kylon of the city guard? He has some places that need cleaned up and it’s the perfect job for you. Gets you some practice with your blades and bow, hmmm?”  
“What do you get out of it?” she asked.  
“We get our own smuggling operation ignored for a while. Who do you think is making the weapons and armor Arl Eamon’s army is wearing?” said Herren.  
“Then as a member of that army, I give you my thanks. Where can I find the Sgt?” she asked.  
Master Wade picked up his hammer, “He should be right outside. He likes to stand guard on the corner, where he can see everything. Bring the armor before you do his job so I can fix it. You’ll need it.”  
Outside of the shop, Rosalyn looked at Wynne. “It might be better if Jowan wasn’t seen with me, for his safety. The two of you go find Morrigan then go over to the Wonders of Thedas and see if you can get your robes cleaned and mended and enchanted. Tell the proprietor that I sent you. That should get you a great deal.”  
“Do I want to know how you can get us such a great deal there?” she asked.  
“Oh, he and I go way back. Who do you think he used to get him his lyrium?” Rosalyn said.  
Wynne laughed. “Everything Alistair said about you is true.”  
“I suppose it would depend on what he said. But I would say yes, he’s right.” She laughed and they parted ways, agreeing to meet back at the inn.

@@@@@

Rosalyn spotted Sgt Kylon standing on the corner near Master Wade’s shop, standing with his latest recruit, who looked like he would be more at home in a fancy parlor than the guard. “Good day, Sgt Kylon,” she said.  
“I don’t suppose you are here to report another crime? Sometimes I think we should just shut down the district all together. What seems to be…Rosalyn? Rosalyn Tabris?” he exclaimed.  
“It’s me, Kylon. How are you?”  
Kylon grabbed her hand and shook it rapidly. “Maker’s breath! It is you! Everyone thought you were dead at Ostagar. I heard about the trouble in the Alienage. Bad thing that. I’m sorry I couldn’t get there in time to smooth things over and maybe it wouldn’t have gotten so out of hand.”  
“I understand. I didn’t exactly use restraint that day; no one did.”  
“Still, it shouldn’t have had to come to that. Vaughan Urien was a menace and should have been dealt with years ago. He’s definitely not missed although his father is. What are you in Denerim for? The Wardens are considered outlaws, even though no one really believes it. You need to tread carefully while you’re here.”  
“Wade says you might need some help and I’m in need of some coin. What can I do to help?”  
The Sgt thought for a moment. “There are some mercenaries causing trouble at the Pearl. There’s a lot of that type in town now thanks to Loghain. I need someone to clean them out with a limited amount of bloodshed. Think you can do that?”  
“I think I could find a way. Thanks, Kylon. I’ll let you know,” she replied as she shook his hand.  
The Sgt smiled down at her, “Good to see you again Rosalyn. Happy hunting!”  
After meeting Kylon, Rosalyn headed for the inn when she was stopped by a man who was standing next to the wall near the Chantry. “You must the Grey Warden everyone’s talking about.”  
“And you are?” she asked suspiciously.  
“Oh! My name is Slim Couldry and I have a proposition for you, if you have the time.”  
Rosalyn glanced around to see if any of her companions were nearby, but could see no one she knew. To be safe she began to slowly walk back towards Master Wade’s. “What can I help you with?”  
“I hear you have certain ‘talents’ that might be desirable by someone in my line of work. I have some ‘jobs’ that need to be completed. I give you the job and you give me say…fifty silver. In return you get to keep all the loot you come across and I get a job completed. What say you?”  
Rosalyn stopped and looked up at him. “What’s to prevent you from just taking my money and giving me false information?”  
“Oh my employer sees that it’s good. We are a clearinghouse of information for the common thief. There are too many who would have our heads if the information was bad”  
“So who’s the mark?”  
Slim smiled; a wily one she was. “All right, I give you the info now. If it’s good, you come back and pay me the silver, if not, then you aren’t out anything but time. Agreed?”  
“Okay,” she answered.  
“See the woman in the purple dress talking to the Antivan merchant? She’s got a full purse and its hanging right where you can get it. Good luck!”  
Rosalyn nodded and walked over to the merchant. The woman in the purple dress was arguing with the merchant over a price and didn’t see her. Rosalyn snuck up and with a flick of her dagger, nipped the purse from the lady’s belt and was gone before anyone knew she had been there. She skirted the outside of the market and stopped in a secluded spot between two houses. Opening the bag, she counted the money and took stock of the jewels it contained; a treasure indeed. She put it all back into the bag and stuffed it into her belt.  
Slim was pleased to see her back so quickly. “So was I right?”  
“It seems you were. Here’s your fifty with twenty-five extra. Got any others?” she asked.  
“How about a sword? There’s a well-placed Bann who frequents the Wonders of Thedas. She has a ceremonial sword that she carries. She purchased it with the proceeds from the new taxes she inflicted upon her tenants recently. It will cost you a sovereign.”  
She handed him a sovereign. “The Wonders of Thedas, huh? I’ll pick that one up later. Thanks Slim. Let me know if you have any more.” She shook his hand and headed for the inn. Despite Alistair’s absence, it had turned into a profitable day. She just hoped he didn’t find out.

@@@@@

Rosalyn stopped in at the Gnawed Noble, talked to the barkeeper and negotiated a deal with him to sell the jewels she had pilfered. In return, all she had to do was dispose of some bodies that had accumulated from some bad deals. Seemed like a fair deal so she agreed. In the back room, she talked to one of the Blackstone Irregulars and agreed to sell him some health poultices. She headed back to the inn for dinner and to report her progress.  
“How did you make out, Wynne?” Rosalyn asked.  
Wynne and Jowan laughed. “You were right about him. As soon as I mentioned your name, he turned pale and gave us everything we wanted. Will cost us five sovereigns though,” Wynne told her.  
Rosalyn laughed, “That we can handle. I’ll need you and Jowan to find fifteen health poultices and take them to the liaison for the Blackstone Irregulars in the back room. That should net us three more sovereigns to start. I have some other tips for good work. What did the chanter’s board have on it, Zevran?”  
“There is a request for someone to take care of some thugs on some back streets. I took the job but it will take some time. Where’s Alistair?” he asked.  
She sighed, “Arl Eamon has ‘requested’ that he return to Redcliffe to see to some business. He left this morning and should be gone a week. Seems we are on our own until then.”  
“That is most unfortunate for us as we will miss his blade. I suggest we use Sten, myself, you and Jowan on the back street job. What do you think?”  
“That should be good. Leliana is on a separate mission for Alistair and may not be spared for now. Wynne and Morrigan can take care of resupplying us for Orzammar and maybe sell some of whatever we find along the way. I have one from the city guard to remove some undesirables from the Pearl down by the waterfront. We can do that while we clean the back streets. We’ll start tomorrow with that but for the rest of the day, let’s relax. We’ll not get a chance for a long while.”  
“I like that idea,” said Wynne. “Jowan and I will take the armor over to Master Wade’s so he can start on it. What about the weapons?”  
“Master Wade can take care of that too. He has someone who sharpens and repairs. Take my weapons but leave my daggers. I’ll take care of them. There’s also a job that requires us to dispose of some bodies. Would you take that? Here are the details.”  
“Very well. Get some rest dear, you look very tired and worn out.” Wynne patted her shoulder and she and Jowan left to collect the armor and take care of the bodies.  
“She is right, Kadan. You will be no good to us unless you rest. The Templar will be angry if you don’t take care of yourself,” chided Sten.  
Rosalyn looked sideways at Sten and her eyebrows rose, “What do you mean, ‘the Templar will be angry’, Sten?”  
“I have been charged with your care should he not be here to see to it himself,” was his reply.  
She laughed to herself. Alistair was still watching over her, even though he had gone. “I will rest, I promise. Would you have Leliana see me as soon as she returns?” He nodded and continued eating his porridge as she headed to her room and the big empty bed.

@@@@@

The next three days proved intensely busy for Rosalyn and her companions. It was a blessing in that they were able to make more than enough to repair and outfit the entire group with some to spare. The fourth day in Denerim proved to be the most interesting.  
Rosalyn, Sten, Zevran and Jowan had just finished cleaning out the last of the back streets and were on their way to collect their money from the Chantry when they passed the Alienage gate. Leliana had not been able to find a way into the Alienage and had finally had to tell Rosalyn there was no hope at the moment. Rosalyn had shaken her head and understood. There would be time to cry later.  
As they passed by the gate that day, she noticed an elven man arguing with the guard. She put out her hand to Zevran, “Wait here a moment.”  
Rosalyn walked to gate and stopped, taking a good look at the man. “I must get back in! My family needs me!” the man cried.  
“Watch your tongue, knife ear, or I’ll cut it out!” warned the guard.  
The elf shook his head and turned away, “Bloody shem,” he mumbled.  
“Soris?” Rosalyn asked, not believing her eyes.  
“Roz? Maker’s breath! You’re supposed to be dead!” he exclaimed as he took her up in a hug. “What happened?”  
“A combination of good and bad luck as the case may be. What are you doing out here?”  
“I had to take off after they took you away. Now I’m back and I can’t get back in. Why are you here?”  
She took his arm and led him back to Zevran and her companions. “It’s a way stop on the road to our next destination. We were short of money and had to find some work. Being a Grey Warden isn’t all glamor, you know.”  
Soris laughed. “You’d never be happy if it did.”  
“So where are you staying now that you’re out?”  
“Nowhere right now. I ran out of money so I had to give up my room at the inn,” he replied.  
“Seems I can help you there. I have a huge room with a huge bed and I’m in need of some help. Want to join up?”  
“As a Warden? No thanks. But I’ll help you fight, if you need that. I have no weapons or armor though.”  
“I won’t make you a Warden. I will get you some weapons and armor and we can catch up.” She gestured to her companions, “This is Zevran, Jowan, and Sten, my cousin, Soris.”  
“Pleased to meet you,” said Zevran. “Your cousin speaks well of you.”  
“Hello,” said Jowan. “She really does.” Sten nodded and grunted in agreement or disgust, no one could tell. Soris backed up a step when he beheld the huge Qunari warrior.  
“Don’t mind him. He always does that,” said Rosalyn, laughing.” I can’t tell you how good it is to see you.”  
“Me too, cousin,” Soris replied.  
Rosalyn took Soris back to the inn and made him comfortable in her room, seeing he was fed. “That’s the biggest bed I have ever seen!” he exclaimed as he stared at it. “Why did you get this room?”  
She turned a little red and fumbled with the words. “Well…I didn’t get the room, Soris. A lot has changed since you and I last saw each other.”  
“I see. What’s his name?” he asked, smiling. “Is it the elf we were with earlier? Zevran? He’s not bad.”  
“Uhhhh….no, it isn’t. His name is Alistair and he’s a Grey Warden too. He had to go to Redcliffe on some business but should be back in a few days. He got the room.” She turned a bright red and tried to change the subject, “Where did you go when you left?”  
“Stop that! Who is this man, Roz? Is he someone I shouldn’t know about? If so, then you’d better tell me before you tell Uncle Cyrion or Shianni.”  
“He’s a warrior and a former Templar. He is my mentor in the Wardens and we are…close. Very close.” The last she said with her head down.  
Soris scratched his head, trying to understand. “He’s a shem? Crap, Roz! You know what happens when you mix with them!”  
“He’s not a shem, Soris. He’s human and one of the best men I’ve ever known. I…I love him.” She watched him as his eyes grew wide. “I’m a Warden, Soris. Thanks to that I’ll never marry nor have children. He understands that and doesn’t care. He sees me as I am not who I should be. I really do love him.”  
Soris scratched his head, trying to make sense of what she’d said. “So he’s a shem. Okay…I suppose being a Grey Warden does mean you get to throw propriety out the window. But Roz…there are many who will never accept it.”  
“I know. It’s not like that wasn’t a consideration, Soris. It took me months to let him get close. I’m happy, really.”  
He looked at her closely, seeing the light in her eyes and the blush that spread across her cheeks. She had come a long way from the hard street fighter he’d always thought her to be. “You are happy,” he said. “When do I get to meet him?’  
“As soon as he gets back, I promise. Now what say you and I go get you some new armor and weapons from Master Wade? He’s got some I think would be perfect. After that I’ll get us the best bottle of wine and we can reminisce about the good old days.”  
“That I could do, cousin.”

@@@@@

The next day, Rosalyn took Jowan, Zevran and Leliana to finish the last of the Chantry board requests. This one had them heading to a back alley near the palace to clean out a gang of ruffians that had made their home there. Rosalyn and Zevran took point while Leliana and Jowan backed them up from behind with magic and bow. It only took a few minutes as the gang was made up of young and inexperienced fighters. They quickly surrendered and agreed to vacate the area immediately instead of fighting the Wardens. She called it a success and the residents were thankful for their intervention.  
As they headed back to the Chantry to collect their bounty, they passed through a deserted street that Rosalyn knew should be bustling with life in the middle of the day. Instead it was silent as they walked through.  
“Zevran?” she asked quietly. “Do you feel it?”  
“Yes. There is something…off about this street. I suggest we avoid it. I smell a trap,” he said. They backed up slowly to the end of the block only to find themselves quickly surrounded by a dozen men, heavily armed.  
The leader was a knight Rosalyn recognized as being in the service of the former Arl of Denerim. “You thought to escape me, eh, Warden?” he sneered.  
“Ser Landry?” she asked. “What do you want?”  
“You killed my friend, Duncan and the king. I demand justice for your crimes! I would prefer to fight with honor but with scum like you, I’ll take whatever victory I can.”  
“Please, Ser Landry! The Wardens didn’t kill Duncan or the king. We were charged with protecting him. What would we gain by our leader’s death or the king’s? Listen to reason!”  
“It is too late, Warden.” He gestured to his men, “Leave the others if you would, but the Warden is mine. Attack!”  
They attacked en masse and quickly. Rosalyn barely had time to draw her sword and dagger before Ser Landry was upon her. Twice her size and reach, he was no match for her speed as she was able to get in blow after blow, wearing him down but not stopping him. She glanced around and spotted Zevran, Leliana and Jowan in heated battles themselves and knew she could expect no help from them yet.  
As she prepared to sidestep Ser Landry’s sword, she felt a sudden pain in her side, causing her to miss her step. Landry’s sword came down and sliced her sword arm, effectively disarming her. As he wound up for the final blow, he was stopped in midair, frozen by Jowan’s ice spell, then crumbling as he was struck by Leliana’s bow and Zevran’s daggers. Landry’s henchmen, seeing their leader was dead, fled the scene, leaving their dead and injured behind.  
Rosalyn took a deep breath and looked down at her stomach, now covered in blood, a bolt fired from a crossbow sticking out of her side. She looked up to see Zevran and Leliana running towards her before the blessed blackness took her.

@@@@@

When she woke, Rosalyn was confused as to where she was. She saw the canopy of a large bed but couldn’t remember how she got there. She tried to sit up but soon found hands on her arms, easing her back down on the bed. “Oh no you don’t,” Wynne said. “You are in no shape to get up yet. Lie still.”  
“Wynne? Where am I? How did I get here?” Rosalyn asked weakly.  
“What do you remember?”  
“I was fighting on a back street when I looked down and there was a bolt sticking out of my side. Then I was here.”  
Jowan answered her, “You were struck by the bolt while we fought Ser Landry and his men. You were losing blood fast and I had to….I’m sorry Rosalyn, I had to use blood magic to heal you. There was no other way; you would have died before we could get you back here to Wynne. You ‘ve been here two days.”  
“You…what? Someone could have seen you!” she cried.  
“Zevran and Leliana made sure there was no one around and I was discreet. We moved you to a secluded spot nearby before I performed the ritual. We took every precaution.”  
“And whose blood did you use?” she asked in horror, dreading the answer.  
“Mine and Leliana’s. Zevran was injured so we avoided using his. It stabilized you until we could get you back here. Please forgive me.” Jowan hung his head in shame.  
“And there were no spirits involved?” He shook his head. “I’m not going to have a desire demon start visiting me in the night am I?”  
“Not unless you want to,” he replied, smiling.  
“Very well.” She looked at Wynne, “What do you think?”  
“It isn’t exactly what I would have chosen to use, but it worked and you are improving. There seems to be no sign of possession of either of you so I say okay. Just don’t do it too often, young man,” Wynne said, her brow narrowing.  
“I won’t. It really isn’t fun or easy to do. I’ll stick to the regular kind of magic, if you don’t mind,” declared Jowan. “What will you tell Alistair? He won’t be happy with me…again.”  
“We’ll keep it between us for now. I’ll tell him myself if the time is right. Now, when can I get up?” Rosalyn inquired of Wynne.  
Wynne smiled at her patient, “Tomorrow, I think. You lost a lot of blood to start. Even though the spell took care of much of the loss, I would prefer another day of rest and potions to be sure. If you are really good, you can eat in the dining room in the morning. You should be ready to fight in a few days.”  
“How are all the jobs going? All done?”  
“Zevran and Sten picked up the armor today and Soris’ armor is ready too. We even gave Master Wade a bonus for his work. Sgt Kylon heard about what happened to you and is searching for the remainder of Landry’s men,” reported Jowan.  
“Morrigan and I have managed to get enough potions, poultices and food for a small army on what we’ve made.” Wynne looked down at her, “I do have a question for you Rosalyn. What are you going to tell Alistair when he sees what we bought, knowing how much money we actually had? He will notice the discrepancy.”  
Rosalyn shook her head, “I don’t know. The truth I suppose. Lying would be too hard.”  
“I could tell him about the blood magic thing first. He might not be so angry after that. At least not at you anyway,” offered Jowan.  
“I don’t think I want to encourage that, but thanks for the offer, Jowan,” Rosalyn replied laughing. “I think he’s knows me well enough to know I was up to no good from the start. I’ll take the blame.”  
“Well, I did offer,” Jowan said.  
“Now young lady, if you don’t mind a few visitors, Soris and the others have been keeping vigil outside for hours. I’ll let them in for a quick hello then its rest time,” ordered Wynne. She motioned for Jowan to open the door. 

@@@@@

Two days later, Rosalyn was walking through the market with Leliana when she spied horses entering the gates of the Arl’s estate. She ran as fast as she could, Leliana on her heels, to see who it was and was soon wrapped up in Alistair’s arms. He was tired, dirty and cranky from his visit but she didn’t care. “Maker I missed you!” he said as he kissed her hard. Looking up he even planted a kiss on Leliana’s cheek, causing her to blush.  
“Welcome back!” she exclaimed. “I’ll go tell the others!” She squeezed his arm and took off in the direction of the inn.  
Alistair grabbed the horse’s reins and handed them to a nearby stable boy before wrapping his arms around her again. “What’s been going on while I’ve been gone?”  
Rosalyn hesitated before answering, “We have outfitted the entire group with repaired or new weapons and armor. And we have enough supplies to take care of us for weeks.”  
Alistair pulled back, looking down at her, “Why do I sense a ‘but’ in there?” He reached out with his senses to test her.  
“Stop that!” She complained. “I was going to tell you. Good news first.”  
“Okay, good news first.”  
“I found my cousin Soris. He went to Highever but came back when he heard about what happened after I left. He’s at the inn right now. He’s going to join us.”  
“As a warden? No!”  
“Not as a Warden, but a mercenary. We have those too. What are the others who travel with us if not that?”  
“Fair enough. What else?”  
“No one seems to be able to get into the Alienage no matter who they are. I’m even on a first name basis with the guards at the gate and they can’t even get in. I…I had to give up.” She hung her head as the tears welled up. Alistair’s arms encircled her as she gathered control.  
“I sorry love. Perhaps I could try.”  
“No. Soris and I are accepting it. We know from experience that it won’t last much longer. In the meantime, we have a war to fight.”  
“So how did you earn the money to get all those supplies? The Chantry?”  
Rosalyn hesitated again, “We should get you back to the inn. You need a bath.” She slipped out of his arms and started to walk back to the inn.  
“And you need to stop stalling. Where did you get the money? I left you with about six sovereigns. Not enough to buy everything we need. What did you do?” he asked, catching her and holding her in place.  
“This might not be a conversation to have in public.”  
“Bloody flames! You went back to your old friends, didn’t you? I knew it!”  
“Yes, and don’t look so surprised. You knew I would if I had to.” He took her by the arm and started back to the inn. “Where are we going?”  
“Back to the inn. Where I can find out the truth and then have the privacy to thrash you good before I make love to you.”  
“Oh,” she said. “Can I choose what’s first?”  
“No,” he said firmly. “It’s my anger, my choice.”  
“Uhhhh…okay,” she replied.  
Thirty minutes later found the companions standing outside Alistair and Rosalyn’s room listening to a very angry Alistair as he berated Rosalyn for her carelessness. “Blood magic! You let Jowan perform a blood magic ritual on you to heal you!”  
“I wasn’t in any shape to argue at the time!”  
Heavy footsteps were heard walking to the door. Leliana whispered fiercely, “Scatter!”  
The door opened and Alistair stood waiting, “I know you are all out there. Wynne! Jowan! What’s all this about blood magic?”  
“Rosalyn’s wound was too serious and she would have died if I had not done what I did, ser. I take full responsibility for my actions,” answered Jowan.  
“He is right Alistair. She had no hope otherwise. She is with us today because he did what he did,” added Wynne.  
“So you condone this?”  
“Well…yes. Yes I do. There was no other choice.”  
“Fine,” he said and slammed the door in her face. The companions looked at each other and shrugged, not willing to leave just yet. There was quiet talking in the room for a while then the yelling started again.  
“Whorehouse? You did work at the whorehouse?” Alistair yelled. “Andraste’s mercy, is there no end to it? What else?”  
Rosalyn continued, telling him all she had done that week to earn the money they needed.  
“Let me get this straight, you cleared out back streets of thugs, disposed of murdered bodies before the guard could find out, and ran Loghain’s unruly mercenaries out of taverns and whorehouses. Is there anything else I need to know about?”  
“There’s the pickpocketing.”  
“Bloody flames, woman! We’re Grey Wardens, not riff raff! Everything we do reflects on the order or did you think of that?”  
“I did think of that! Why do you think I chose the jobs I did? I could have taken up with the assassins or the smugglers. That would have worked too, but would have been messy and hard to explain. I chose simple jobs that took advantage of the skills we had to offer. I happen to be a very good pickpocket, I’ll have you know!” Rosalyn was incensed and had had enough.  
“So you aren’t sorry that it nearly cost you your life and potentially the lives of others?”  
“No, I’m not sorry. I’d do it again if it got us what we needed.”  
“Fine!” He stomped to the door and left, nearly tripping on Soris and Zevran as they crouched by the door, their ears pressed to it.  
Rosalyn sat down on the bed after he left and hung her head. She’d really done it this time.

@@@@@

Alistair didn’t return to the inn that night. Leliana followed him as he stomped out to make sure he was all right. She returned two hours later to pick up his pack. He was at the Arl’s estate and would not be returning that night. She apologized to Rosalyn, “I did everything I could to talk him into coming back but he is too angry. I don’t know what else to do.”  
“You did what you could, Leliana. Thank you. Please tell him we are ready to leave for Orzammar whenever he is,” she told her as she handed her the pack. “Here, you should take this too. I bought him some new shirts, breeches, and small clothes. His are too ragged to wear anymore.” She handed her a wrapped package. Leliana nodded and left with the pack.  
Rosalyn closed the door behind her and turned to look at the room with the big bed. Tears welled up in her eyes as she thought of how much she wanted Alistair there with her. But she wouldn’t apologize for what she’d done. They needed the money and there were no other ways to earn it. The sooner Alistair accepted that, the better it would be for both of them.  
She walked to the window and looked out over the city towards the Alienage and the Arl’s estate. “I won’t cry over this. I haven’t done anything I’m ashamed of. I did what I had to do,” she thought. She looked down at the estate that stretched out along one side of the Market District. Making up her mind, she grabbed her bow and headed to the door when there was a knock. “Come in,” she called.  
“And here I thought you were drowning in your tears, my dear Warden. But instead I find you armed to the teeth and ready for battle. Tell me, what brings this on you now?” asked Zevran.  
“I’m going to find Alistair. He’s at the Arl’s estate. I will find him and bring him back here if I have to tie him up to do it. He will listen to reason.”  
“Tch, tch, Rosalyn. You are not looking at this from his point of view, you know.”  
“What? Of course I am.”  
“No you are not. If you were then you would realize that the only reason he is angry is not because you did what you had to do to get the money to keep us going but because he nearly lost you and was not here to prevent it. He is angry with himself.”  
Rosalyn thought about what he said. Was it true? She had nearly died of the bolt and he wasn’t there when it happened. If he had been, he would have been fighting by her side and could have prevented it. “It wasn’t his fault I got hurt.”  
“No it wasn’t and he knows that. He loves you, my dearest, and he would keep you safe. It is the way of men.”  
“So what do I do?”  
Zevran took her hands, “Short of dropping him for me, I suggest you simply do your work as you always have. Show him you are strong and can do your job well. He will come back.”  
She was quiet for a bit, pondering what he said. “How do you know this?”  
“It is exactly what I would do, were I in his place. We are not so different, he and I, in that aspect. We wish our lovers safety and comfort.” She nodded slightly. “There, see? I am right. Now, let’s go downstairs and get something to eat and drink. Soris must be halfway through the first bottle. We have some catching up to do.” He held out his arm, “Shall we?”  
Rosalyn smiled slightly and took his offered arm as he led her to the door. He stopped at the door and removed her bow from her back. “You won’t need this tonight, I think.” She laughed and followed him out the door.  
Alistair stood in the shadows on the corner, looking up at the window of what should have been his room. He saw Zevran offer his arm and Rosalyn take it. A stab of pain passed through his heart as he watched her smile and laugh. Turning, he headed back to the estate and the empty room that awaited him.

@@@@@

The next morning saw Alistair back at the inn, dressed in a new shirt, breeks and small clothes under his clean and repaired armor.  
There had been no sleep for him at the estate, even though the seneschal had bent over backwards to make him welcome. Alistair merely waved the man off, explaining he was exhausted and wished to retire. The man apologized and sent a servant to pick up his armor and clothing. He found it lying neatly on a table when he awoke, clean and repaired, along with a basin of hot water and some food.  
He knocked politely at the door to Rosalyn’s room, expecting to have it open and reveal Zevran to have shared the big bed that was to have been his. When there was no answer he knocked harder.  
“Come in,” Rosalyn called.  
He paused a moment, then put his hand on the door handle and turned it, opening the door. Rosalyn sat up in the big bed, the covers pulled up to her neck. Alistair let out a deep breath when he realized she was alone. “I wanted to tell you I’m ready to leave whenever you are.”  
“Then we will leave today, if you wish. It’s a long trip,” she answered. “Will you tell everyone?”  
The sheet slipped down a bit and he noticed she wasn’t wearing anything as she slept. His groin tightened as he remembered why he had been in such a hurry to return to Denerim and her. “I…I’ll wait downstairs.” He turned and left the room reluctantly.  
Rosalyn stared after him as he left. “At least he still wants me,” she said to herself, smiling. “That’s a start.” She got up and dressed and began to pack her things for the trip.  
She found Alistair sitting in the dining room, having a second breakfast with Soris and Wynne. He was deep in conversation with Soris over the benefits of light versus heavy armor. Wynne rose when she saw Rosalyn enter, motioning her to sit down. Rosalyn shook her head and took a spot at a table with Sten. Wynne joined them, plopping down next to her as Sten slurped his porridge.  
“They are getting along very well,” Wynne commented, nodding towards the other table.  
Rosalyn looked up at the mage, “Who is getting along well?”  
“Alistair and Soris. They seem to have much in common. You never mentioned how intelligent and well-read he is.”  
“My father works as steward for Bann Rodolf. The Bann was always kind to him and allowed him to borrow books from his extensive library. As we grew up, the Bann allowed Soris, Shianni and I access to the library once a week on Sundays. My father always made us each read the whole book during the week. He would quiz us on them to make sure we actually read it. He said that a well-read person was always happier than one who wasn’t. ‘At least a well-read person knows the difference’ he said. He was right.”  
Wynne laughed. “I think your father must be an extraordinary man.”  
“He is. He would like you very much, I’m sure.”  
“And what of Alistair? What would he think of him?”  
Rosalyn looked over at Alistair happily debating with Soris and hung her head. “He’d wish he were an elf.”  
“And he isn’t,” Wynne replied, her eyebrows rising.  
“No, he isn’t,” she answered. “He would like him though.”  
“Is that the trouble between you two?”  
“Only a small part, Wynne. I messed up. I took dangerous jobs that went against his expressed wishes. I broke a promise to him and it nearly cost me my life.”  
Wynne glanced over at the table where Alistair and Soris sat, still deep in conversation. “He feels guilty, you know.”  
“So Zevran told me.”  
Wynne reached over and took Rosalyn’s hand in hers. “Don’t waste it, dear. It’s fleeting and once lost, is often never found again.” Sten, who had been listening to all they said, grunted with what she knew was approval.  
“She is right, Kadan. Do not waste what you have. Take it and run,” he said. His eyes looked up at her and then glanced at Wynne, who met his gaze steadily and Rosalyn detected an imperceptible nod from the mage’s head. It was gone in an instant and he returned to his breakfast. Rosalyn caught it and pondered its meaning.  
Alistair and Soris finished their breakfast and stood up. Looking over at Rosalyn, Alistair asked, “Are you ready?”  
“Yes. Let’s go,” she replied. With a signal to the others, they all left the inn and headed out.

The Road to Soldier’s Peak

The companions made their way out of the city at a leisurely pace, none of them wanting to leave and dreading what was to come. As they passed through the gate, following Bodahn’s wagon, they were stopped by a man with light brown hair and a weathered face that spoke of much time spent outdoors.  
“You’re hard people to find!” he exclaimed as he caught his breath. “Forgive me, my name is Levi, Levi Dryden and you are the Wardens.”  
Alistair looked at Rosalyn and shrugged his shoulders, “I’m Alistair and this is Rosalyn. What do you need?”  
“Well, I’m a friend of old Duncan’s, I am. I wanted to find you to ask if you’d consider helping me with a favor I asked of Duncan before he died.”  
“What sort of favor?” asked Rosalyn.  
Levi caught his breath and continued, “My great-great-grandmother was the last Warden Commander of Ferelden, Sophia Dryden. She died at the old Warden base, Soldier’s Peak. When Arland died, there was a civil war and our family was on the run, enemies of the state, with no friends. Eventually we rebuilt, but we lost all our lands and titles.”  
Alistair was enchanted with tale. Here was Warden history he’d never heard. “What happened next?”  
“My family reveres Sophia Dryden and all she stood for and tried to do. We know she died at Soldier’s Peak to the north. I like to find some evidence that would clear her name.”  
“I’ve never heard of Soldier’s Peak,” mused Alistair.  
“No one has been there for years. I went to Duncan to tell him about it and he agreed that we should try to reclaim the base and see if anything can be salvaged. But since Duncan is gone, I thought I’d try to find you and see if you would like to try.”  
“What do you need from us, Levi?” asked Rosalyn.  
He scratched his head, “I can pick my way through the tunnels and have spent years mapping them, but the place is sort of haunted and it will be dangerous, but if you are willing to go, I’ll show you the way.”  
Rosalyn looked up at Alistair, “What do you think?”  
“I think I’m tired of fighting Darkspawn and Loghain’s troops. Let’s have some fun for a change,” he said.  
“All right.” She turned to Levi, “Let’s go to Soldier’s Peak.”  
“Wonderful! I’ll go get my wagon and we’ll get started right away! Wait right here.” He ran off quickly, leaving them at the gate.  
Alistair looked at the group, “We’ll take Leliana, Soris, and Jowan with us. The rest of you go with Bodahn to Lake Calenhad and wait there for us. Wynne can check in on the mages at the Tower and see to their readiness while Bodahn conducts his business. We’ll meet you there in a week or so.”  
They went through the supplies in the wagon, taking enough provisions for two weeks along with tents and blankets. Levi arrived and kindly offered to carry their supplies in his wagon and let them ride. With a promise to meet, they were all on their way.  
Bumping along the road, it was apparent to Rosalyn that this trip was going to be awkward. Alistair was still keeping to himself around her and she missed his easy way. Soris noticed right away and broke the ice with her while they walked beside the wagon. “He looks at you all the time.”  
“I know,” she said, looking ahead.  
“He’s really not that bad, you know.”  
Rosalyn turned and looked at her cousin, “You really think so?”  
“I do. He’s smart, funny and he loves you Roz. Everyone can see it.”  
She turned to look ahead again, “He has a funny way of showing it.”  
“He’s sorry for that. He thinks you don’t want him.”  
She glanced over at the other side of the wagon where Alistair was deep in conversation with Jowan and Leliana, “He’s mistaken, Soris. I want him very much.”  
“Maybe I’m butting in, but don’t you think it’s time you told him? You aren’t in the Alienage anymore, Roz.”  
“He knows where I am,” she replied, refusing to talk any more about it. Soris soon gave up and joined the others.

@@@@@

That night, Rosalyn threw on a blanket and walked to a rise near the camp. She could see out over miles of forest and farmland and she sat down on a log and watched the sun set. After a few minutes she heard a throat clearing behind her. Without looking, she knew it was Alistair. “What?” she asked curtly.  
“I was…wondering…if you would like to…talk,” he answered, his voice betraying his clash of emotions.  
“Talk then,“ she said, not looking back. He came to sit on the log beside her.  
“I was talking to Soris. He seems like a really nice person.”  
“Yes, he is.”  
“He told me a lot about the Alienage; it sounds like it was hard to live there but good at the same time.”  
“I suppose you could say that,” she replied, still looking out at the view.  
Alistair cleared his throat again and ran his fingers through his hair nervously. “He said you had to do what you could sometimes to get by.”  
“Yes, we did. Sometimes it was dangerous and illegal but necessary.”  
“So he said.” He swallowed, “I wanted to tell you I understand and…I’m sorry. Wynne and Sten both said you did what you had to.”  
She turned and looked at him. “They did?”  
“Yes,” he replied, his voice husky. “Lyn…”  
“Oh shut up,” she said as she stood up quickly and tossed the blanket aside. She went to him, straddling his lap, her lips meeting his, “We have something else we need to do.”  
Alistair’s arms came around her as his mouth met hers, tasting and exploring, “Yes…we should…do that…” His lips worked their way down her neck as her hands found their way to his shirt and pulled it up.  
“Nice shirt,” she said as her hands came up inside it, running along his chest, “Take it off.”  
His mouth found hers, “I was thinking I might take you to bed first.”  
“Then you’re stalling,” she said as she rubbed against him. His hands found her breasts and discovered she wasn’t wearing her breast bands.  
“Maker!” he exclaimed as his hands skimmed over her breasts. “Lyn…we…really…should…” She stopped him with a kiss. With a growl, he grabbed her by the thighs and stood up, carrying her as she rained kisses on his lips and neck, her legs wrapped around his waist. He carried her to her tent, ducking as he entered. There was a loud “Ooof!” then Alistair’s head popped out of the tent, “Uhhhh….Jowan…take first watch.” His head ducked back into the tent as Levi, Soris, Leliana and Jowan looked at each other and laughed, applauding and whistling.  
Alistair shucked his shirt and pulled her up to meet him. She grabbed her shirt tail and pulled her shirt over her head and sat still, watching his reaction. In the dim light, his hand came out slowly and touched the scar on her side where the bolt had nearly killed her. His fingers traced the line by touch and his breath caught as he took it all in. His head bent down and he kissed the wound, his arms encircling her waist as he rested his head on her stomach. Rosalyn ran her fingers through his hair and slowly pulled his head up to meet hers. “I’m here, Alistair; and I’m not going anywhere. Love me,” she pleaded.  
He nodded and bent to kiss her, his hands running over her, learning her curves and feel. She gasped as his mouth found her breast and sucked the nipple to a peak as she arched into him, her hands in his hair. His mouth came up to find hers then bent down to take the other breast. Rosalyn moaned as he took the second one even harder into his mouth.  
Her hands pulled at his laces then her own, loosening them until they began to slide off. Alistair laughed as she tugged at the waistband of his breeches, “You are forgetting something, love.”  
Rosalyn looked down to see they were both still wearing their boots. She laughed and quickly pulled hers off and tossed them aside as he did his. They met back where they started. “Nice breeches,” she said as she kissed his chest.  
“They’re new,” he said as his hand pulled at the thong that tied her hair.  
“So are mine,” she replied in between kisses.  
“Take them off,” he said.  
“I will if you will,” she challenged.  
Suddenly they were tugging at their breeches, trying to see who could be done first. “You jumped the gun, you know,” he said as he picked up her small clothes and held them up. “Expecting something?”  
“You.”  
“Well, all right then,” he answered as he slipped off his small clothes and drew her down to the pallet, resting her on top of his chest. His mouth found hers and she straddled him, feeling his hardness pressed against her sex. She rubbed against him, feeling him become slick with her wetness. “Maker, Lyn! I have to have you and I can’t wait any more!”  
She reached between them and found him, slowly rising, then lowering herself down onto him. Alistair moaned and gasped as the head of his cock penetrated her and slid in, sweat beading on his forehead as she took him in. When her hips met his, she stopped, catching her breath. He filled her more than anything she could have imagined, even more than Duncan or Dallan.  
Slowly, she began to rock back and forth, causing him to move inside her. He sat up and put his arms around her to pull her close, her breasts rubbing against him. She moaned as the friction increased against her sex, and she began to climb towards her release. Alistair alternately gasped and called her name as she rocked, faster and harder against him, the sensations nearly pushing him over the edge. Each time she rocked back, he gained control but lost it each time just as quickly. When Rosalyn cried out her release, she tightened her hold on him and road it out, reveling in the ecstasy, calling his name. Alistair took over the rhythm then, thrusting up into her, hard and strong, forcing her to come again as he spilled inside her, calling her name. They continued for what seemed an eternity, finally collapsing, Rosalyn resting on Alistair’s chest as they slowly made their journey back.  
Alistair’s arms encircled her as he held her close, “That was so worth all the waiting, you know.”  
“I hope so. We waited long enough,” she laughed.  
“I love you, Lyn. Never leave me.”  
“I won’t. I love you too much now.”  
“Is Eamon ever going to be pissed at me,” he said, laughing.  
“To the flames with Eamon,” she said and claimed his mouth. “Let me see what Mari taught you.”  
“As you wish, love,” he said as he rolled her over on her back and rose above her, “This I know you’ll like…”

@@@@@

Neither Rosalyn nor Alistair noticed they weren’t awakened for watch that night. Jowan, Leliana, Soris, and Levi took turns and each watched an extra hour for the difference. The sounds from the tent grew quiet eventually as they dozed in each other’s arms. Finally Alistair broke the silence. “Lyn, who was your first?”  
“First what?” she answered sleepily.  
“First lover. I know it wasn’t Duncan.”  
“There’s been no one since Duncan.”  
“I know that. Who was he?” he asked, propping himself up on his elbow, his fingers tracing a lazy line around her breasts and stomach.  
“His name was Dallan. He recruited me into the smuggling ring he worked for. He…well, he wasn’t really a lover, so I found out. He had lots of girls he saw; girls who took care of needs I couldn’t; girls and boys.”  
“Oh…I see. What did you do...when you found out?”  
Rosalyn was quiet, ashamed of what she had to tell him. “I did nothing. I loved him. With no experience with men, I didn’t know any better. A few months before I joined the Wardens, he left for Amaranthine to marry a girl there. I was broken hearted for weeks. I decided then I wouldn’t marry.” She took his hand and twined her fingers around his.  
“Yet you were getting married the day Duncan conscripted you,” he pointed out.  
“My father told me about how my mother and he got married. They didn’t speak to each other for months after the ceremony. One day he decided to make peace with her and allowed her to return to her work as a smuggler. She was so happy that she kissed him and that was it. I was born a few months later.”  
“They sounded happy. What happened?”  
“When I was younger, Mama was captured in a raid against the Alienage smuggling rings. She was held prisoner in the Arl of Denerim’s dungeons for months. Father wouldn’t tell me about what happened, but others say she was tortured and raped repeatedly. It was a miracle she didn’t become pregnant. Eventually she escaped and returned to the Alienage. It was weeks before she was well. The healers said she’d never have another child.”  
“How did she die?” he asked as he released her hand and brought his arm around her, laying his head on her stomach.  
“Father had the opportunity to buy the building we lived in. He couldn’t raise enough money to do it. Mama had been asked to help one of the smuggling rings with a shipment, so she took the job. It would pay more than enough to buy our home. But the deal went bad and they were attacked; Mama was killed as was Soris’ father and Shianni’s mother. My father took them in and we’ve been together ever since.”  
“So that’s why you agreed to the marriage; because you wanted what they had.”  
She stroked his hair absently as she talked. “I had been injured during a deal a few days before my father told me about Nelaros. I couldn’t tell him I was working for the same people who, at least in his mind, killed my mother. So I told him I was attacked as I came home from work at the estate. He thought I was a night maid at the estate of a merchant. I knew that it was only a matter of time before I was next, so I said yes to him. The rest you know.”  
“I’m sorry that it took so much pain to lead you to me, but I’m not sorry you were led. Does that sound wrong?” he asked, raising his head.  
She thought for a moment as they changed positions, her head resting on his chest as they talked. “I could have done without the pain. Nelaros didn’t deserve to die for me. All he wanted was to make me happy. But I wouldn’t change things now. If I did, I wouldn’t have you.”  
Alistair pulled her up to his mouth and kissed her. “Maker, I love you!”  
“I love you, too. Want to see how much?” she asked playfully, inching her way down his body.  
“And just how do you go about that?” he asked, curious. Her mouth reached him and he grew harder, gasping as Rosalyn giggled. “Oh! I remember that…” he moaned, laying back.

@@@@@

Levi guided them through caves that had not been entered by anyone for centuries. He told them how he had first found the caves as a boy, exploring them as far as he dared. His family, the Drydens, had been a noble family during the reign of King Arland. “Back then, the Wardens were more known as being freeloaders, not soldiers. Because of that, Arland banished the Wardens and took the Drydens’ land and titles.”  
Alistair was in his element as he listened to the tale, “What happened next?”  
“After King Arland died, there was a civil war. Few records exist from his time. I suppose he didn’t want us to know what he was doing.”  
“You know, I’ve spent a lot time reading up my family and I’ve never been able to find much about Arland at all. There isn’t much outside of vague public records. It isn’t until after he died that the histories become detailed again,” commented Alistair.  
“Your family? You are a Theirin?”  
Alistair looked uncomfortable and shifted his breastplate, “Uhhhh…yeah. Seems I am. My father was King Maric but my mother was just a serving girl. I was raised by Arl Eamon at Redcliffe. So I guess some of our problems are a little bit my fault.”  
Rosalyn shook her head, “None of our problems are his fault. He just thinks they are. I blame Loghain for that.”  
Alistair leaned downed and kissed her cheek, whispering, “Thanks, love.”  
“Seems I’ve fallen in with outlaws. No matter, I’m used to that.” Levi cleared his throat and continued, “Sophia died at the Peak when it was overrun by Arland’s troops. Our family reveres her and would like to clear her name. That’s why I contacted Duncan. He was going to go with me to scout the fortress and perhaps find some evidence to clear her name and help the Wardens. It’s a huge place, strategic and symbolic.”  
“So how did you manage to be one of the ones to talk to my father about allowing the Wardens to return?” asked Alistair.  
Levi checked his map and went on, “There were many who thought Arland’s ban was foolish and unnecessary. The Wardens exist for a purpose, one we are seeing right now. Without them, the country loses a good portion of its defense. We all went to the king and asked if he would consider allowing them to return for a meeting with him regarding an important matter. I don’t know what that matter was, but a missive from the First Warden and testimonials from our group was enough to get them the meeting. Not long after, the Wardens returned and are still here.”  
“That is a fascinating story, Levi. I will have to write it down; it would make a wonderful ballad,” said Leliana.  
“A ballad? Andraste’s mercy! That would be wonderful! Would you really do that?” Levi asked.  
“I’ll start tonight after supper. I’ll need all the details.” For the rest of the day, they were near inseparable as she questioned him about his involvement with the Wardens’ return to Ferelden.  
“If I didn’t know better, I’d say there’s a crush there,” commented Jowan.  
“Undoubtedly a crush,” added Soris.  
Rosalyn laughed, “I think you’re right.”  
“Who’s got a crush?” asked Alistair as he turned to listen to them. “Levi?”  
“No, Loghain,” she said, laughing at his look of confusion. “Yes, Levi. For Leliana.”  
“Isn’t he married or something?  
Jowan shook his head, “He’s a widower who lost his wife two years ago. That’s why he decided to get Duncan and find the fortress. I think they are cute together; like you and Rosalyn.”  
Alistair was incredulous, “Cute? You think we’re cute?” He looked down at Rosalyn, “Are we cute?”  
She laughed at his puzzled look, “Seems we are. There are worse things to be, Alistair; like scary or annoying.”  
“You’re soooo sweet too,” teased Soris.  
Alistair frowned at Soris, who laughed, “I suppose we are. I just never thought of myself as cute. I’ll have to think on that.”  
“You do that, love.” She said as she, Soris, and Jowan all laughed.

Soldier’s Peak

“There it is. Soldier’s Peak. It’s a monster, that’s for sure,” exclaimed Levi.  
Rosalyn smiled up at him, teasing, “You did get us lost a couple of times,”  
“The map got soggy, silly girl!” he chided as Rosalyn laughed. She liked Levi very much. “You go on and I’ll follow behind,” he said, “There’s a stench of death here that I’d rather avoid at all costs.”  
She reached into her belt and pulled out a long dagger, “Can you use this?”  
“I’ve never been one for daggers or knives, but I can shoot a bow if you have one.”  
Alistair was soon rummaging through their goods in the wagon, pulling out the bow he had been carrying since the Brecilian ruins. “Take this then. I won’t need it. Show us what you’ve got,” he challenged.  
“All right, if you insist, I’ll embarrass myself. It has been a while, you should know,” answered Levi as he tested the bow’s draw. Leliana helped him, and Rosalyn couldn’t help noticing how their fingers kept touching as she helped him. When he was satisfied, he nocked an arrow and drew. “The spot down the hill where the tree splits,” he said. Loosing the arrow, it flew straight and true, hitting the spot at the juncture of the tree dead center. “Not bad,” he said, surprised.  
“Not bad at all, Levi. Where did you learn to shoot like that?” asked Rosalyn.  
“Oh, my pap made sure we could all shoot and use a dagger and sword. As merchants, we are easy targets. I’ve rarely a chance to use the skills now though. I usually just hire some help and let them take care of it.”  
“Well, you have a place with us anytime you want,” said Alistair as he patted Levi on the back. “Today, keep back with Jowan and try not to let anyone get through to him. He’ll take care of the rest.”  
Jowan nodded, “I can at that, ser.” Alistair looked sideways at him, his eyes narrowing; Jowan corrected himself, “Alistair.”  
“Better,” he replied, making Rosalyn and the others smile. “Levi, lead us in.” The merchant nodded and walked to the gates. It took Jowan’s magic to open them as the years of rust and decay had fused them together. With a lightning spell aimed at the fused sections, the gates parted easily and allowed them access.  
Levi led them through the gates slowly as the companions fanned out to check for any danger. Suddenly he stopped, his face turning white as if seeing a ghost. The yard was suddenly full of soldiers, ghostly in their appearance but no less dangerous looking.  
“Fall back! Fall back already!” commanded a lord to the troops in front of him.  
The knight shook his head, “Taking the Peak will not be easy, m’lord.”  
“I gave the Wardens one chance to die with honor. Instead, they hole up like cowards. We follow the King’s command, then. Starve them out,” the lord ordered.  
“But the Peak has months of supplies.”  
“Then we wait. When they are too weak to lift their weapons, we will send them to their final judgment!” ordered the lord.  
The apparitions shimmered and turned to mist as they watched. Levi shook his head to clear it, his hand clutching his stomach. Leliana was soon next to him, her hand on his arm. He covered it with his own then looked to Rosalyn and Alistair. “Wh…what was that? I felt sick all of the sudden. I saw…something there. Am I going mad?”  
“I heard an Orlesian ballad about something like this once. A beauty trapped in a dream, never waking up.” Leliana declared.  
“That makes me nervous,” Levi added. “How is this possible? Is the place haunted?”  
Jowan took a few steps forward, his hands outstretched. “The Veil is thin here, like the Tower. No doubt demons and spirits have entered our world. I can feel them.”  
“Andraste’s mercy! Good thing you came with us, Jowan. Can you all handle it?”  
“We should be able to, Levi. It doesn’t seem as bad as the Tower,” said Rosalyn. Jowan nodded his agreement.  
Levi smiled a nervous smile and squeezed Leliana’s hand, “Then it’s a good thing you came Warden. After you…”

@@@@@

The fortress turned out to be a very busy battleground for the little group. Walking dead and demons stalked the halls wherever they went. The front entrance hall brought more images of the events that had transpired two hundred years before. They saw Sophia Dryden pushing her men to fight harder, telling them they would never give up, while a Warden mage was telling her that his spells would only work so far and that drastic measures were needed.  
Alistair was confused as he watched the visions. When they cleared he expressed his feelings out loud, “Why was the Peak being attacked by the king? It all makes no sense. The Wardens are by nature neutral in politics and government.”  
“Perhaps it’s an incident that isn’t recorded any more. You said yourself the records from the time are scarce,” Rosalyn told him.  
“May be. I want to know more. Let’s keep going.”  
They continued to search the hallways and rooms on the bottom floor, eventually finding the library. They spread out through the room, looking for any evidence that could help them. Levi and Rosalyn found a burned and charred book on the floor. Picking it up to read it, the group was again assailed by images from the day the fortress fell.  
“The door won’t hold, Archivist!” cried the Scribe.  
The archivist kept writing, “I’m almost done…The truth must be told.”  
“What does it matter? We never should’ve done it. Wardens aren’t supposed to oppose kings and princes.”  
“Should we stand idly by while…” The archivist was cut off as the vision ended abruptly.  
Levi shook his head, “Rebellion? What are they talking about? If only the book wasn’t burned.”  
Alistair took the book from Rosalyn, “Rebellion goes against everything the Wardens stand for.”  
“Sophia must have had her reasons. Sometimes you can’t just stand idly by.”  
Without warning, the room filled with shades and the walking dead, surrounding them.  
“Form a circle!!” commanded Alistair as they rushed for their weapons. Levi and Jowan stayed to the inside as the others attacked any enemies that got close. Eventually they were able to finish them off.  
“That’s what Duncan told me when he gave Nelaros and me the weapons to rescue Roz and the other girls,” Soris said as he cleaned and sheaved his daggers.  
“Said what, Soris?” as Rosalyn.  
“Nelaros and I asked him if he would help us rescue you. He said couldn’t go himself, but he made sure we had a chance.”  
“I don’t remember that,” Rosalyn told him. “Duncan gave you the weapons?”  
“And a way into the estate. We couldn’t have gotten in without him.” Rosalyn put her hand on Soris’ arm and squeezed, he covered it with his own and held it. “I just wish we’d been more successful,” he said with regret.  
“I miss Nola too,” she said quietly; he nodded.  
“We should go and look for more answers inside,” Alistair said as he started down the next hall. They found the stairs to the next floor and followed them to a room that seemed to have been a common room where the residents would have relaxed. As they climbed the steps to another level, they saw what appeared to be a mirror in the corner of the room. Glowing circles were set into the floor at regular intervals.  
Suddenly the room grew misty as the shades of the Wardens appeared again. They saw Sophia Dryden command her men to attack at will then ordering a mage to summon the demons to help them. He began to chant and there were soon shades and demons attacking the king’s soldiers. When they had dispatched their targets they began to kill the Warden troops. The mage was unable to stop them and ordered his acolytes to retreat and leave the Wardens to die at the hands of the creatures.  
The mist receded as quickly as it appeared, leaving the confused companions alone. Levi was first to talk,” The Wardens summoned demons! My own grandmother…she knew.”  
Rosalyn glanced over at Jowan before she answered; he looked the most uncomfortable she had ever seen him. “The Wardens don’t forbid blood magic, Levi. Anything it takes to win is what we do. I’m sorry.”  
“I just thought my family was better than that.” He started to walk farther into the room when Jowan put out his hand to stop him.  
“Summoning circles,” he said as he pointed to the glowing circles. “The far mirror is a gate to the Fade. Blood magic is at work here, very strong and very evil.” He took two steps forward, put his hands out and closed his eyes. “The gate is open. That’s where all the spirits are coming from. From the looks of it, it’s been open a long time; centuries maybe. We will have to close it somehow.”  
“How would that be possible?” asked Alistair.  
Jowan got a wary look on his face as he searched for the answer. “It would take the mage who set them to undo the circles or…very powerful blood magic.”  
Alistair looked down at Rosalyn, the worry and fear apparent in his eyes. He looked back to Jowan, reluctantly asking, “Can you unravel them?”  
He shook his head. “Not without more blood than any of us is willing to provide. It would take a second summoning to fix this. I…I won’t do that.”  
Alistair nodded his acceptance, putting his hand on the mage’s shoulder. “I don’t blame you for not wanting to do it, Jowan. Thank you for not crossing that line.” Jowan smiled slightly at his words. “Is there anything you can do to protect us?”  
“Only blood magic will keep us safe from that, but I think I know a spell that will shield us for a while. It will take some blood though. May I?”  
“Go ahead,” said Rosalyn without waiting for Alistair’s response. She took out her dagger and held it out to Jowan as he began chanting. When the chant reached a fevered pitch, she sliced open Jowan’s hand and withdrew. A blue light enveloped them as they stood there, dissipating after a few seconds. Jowan slumped a bit as he finished, temporarily drained. Alistair handed him a lyrium potion while Leliana and Rosalyn bandaged his hand.  
“That was blood magic? It felt like a pleasant sleep. Does it always do that?” asked Levi.  
“If only it did, my friend,” Jowan laughed at his assessment. “That should protect us for a while. I hope long enough to stop whatever it causing this.”  
“Let’s move on,” said an impatient Alistair as they skirted the circles and headed for the stairs to the walkway between the towers.

@@@@@

They hadn’t gotten through the door when the mirror began to glow, the room filling with shades and a spirits. “Kill the spirits first!” Jowan hollered. “They control the shades!” He began to shoot bolts at will.  
Levi and Rosalyn began to shoot their bows at the far creatures, while Alistair, Leliana and Soris kept the near ones from getting through. Each time they eliminated nearly all the creatures from the room, the mirror would glow and the room would fill again.  
Jowan suddenly stepped forward from the group and began to chant. Alistair yelled, “No! Jowan stop!” and prepared to drain his mana.  
“Stay back!” Jowan commanded as he finished his spell. The room filled with a thick red mist that masked the circles and the mirror from view. “Get out, quick! It won’t last!”  
The companions headed for the steps and out the door to the causeway between the towers. Alistair checked the door to see if any of the demons had followed but found none. He turned to Jowan, demanding answers. “What did you think you were doing?”  
“It was a mist spell, tainted red with blood to mask the circles. They ‘sensed’ our presence and would have kept bringing forth more and more spirits to fight us until we succumbed to their will or died,” he answered. “And…yes. It was blood magic.”  
Alistair shook his head. “Fine! You know how I feel.” He sheathed his sword and took a drink from his water skin. Rosalyn put her hand in his and squeezed, reaching out with her senses. “Stop that,” he said to her, smiling weakly as he caught her. She laughed softly at his reaction. “Let’s go on,” he said.  
Rosalyn and Soris stepped forward first, checking the way ahead. “Traps,” said Soris as they walked. “The way is clear down the middle though.” Together they dismantled the traps and cleared the way. “Just like home, huh?”  
“Only with a lot more dead things,” she replied. Soris laughed nervously.  
Halfway down the causeway they were attacked by a half dozen walking dead but easily picked them off with bows and magic. The door to the next tower was before them so Jowan laid his hands upon it to check for any demons or spirits that might be on the other side. Finding nothing, he opened the door to reveal a room that looked like a chapel of a sort. They examined the altar and found animal sacrifices and evidence of blood magic rituals. “This has been used for a long time,” commented Jowan. “Someone has been sacrificing to the demons to appease them or keep them at bay, or both. The most recent was only a few hours ago.”  
“So someone is still here and is keeping this going?” asked Levi, who had been silent for a while as he found a way to deal with the fantastic things he’d seen and experienced.  
“I have no doubt. Without regular sacrifice or appeasement, the demons and spirits would have abandoned the Peak long ago. Someone is keeping them here for a purpose.”  
Leliana shivered in horror as she thought of all the souls who were trapped in the fortress without release. Levi put his arm around her shoulders in comfort, drawing her to him. “The sooner we are gone from here the better,” he said.  
“I agree. Let’s check out that room.” Alistair pointed to a room to their left and started for the door.  
Jowan put out his hand, “Wait. There is…something.” He put out his staff and chanted a phrase. The staff began to glow brightly. “Open it now. This will mask us for a few moments; long enough to assess what’s there.” Alistair drew his sword and signaled to the others to follow.  
There were many things that they expected to find in the room, but what they found was not one of them. Upon examination, they found it to be the office of the Warden Commander. A desk was at one end, in front of a large empty fireplace; files and papers were scattered everywhere. Behind the desk stood a woman in Warden issued armor, armed with a two-handed blade, her back to them. She turned around and revealed the decaying corpse of a once lovely woman with features much like Levi’s.  
“Step no further…” the creature commanded. Jowan stepped forward and began to chant a mist spell. “Get this annoyance away from me. This one would speak with you.”  
Rosalyn stepped forward. “Don’t, Jowan. Let us hear this.” As he stepped back, she whispered, “Be ready and strike her if need be, though.” He nodded. To the woman she asked, “Why should I speak with you?”  
The creature smiled as it regarded her, “Because the Peak is mine. This one is the Dryden. Commander. Sophia. All these things.” It laughed as it talked.  
Levi was overwhelmed, “Gr…grandmother?”  
“You have slain many of the demon ilk to get here. This one would propose a deal.”  
“Why should we trust a demon?” asked Alistair as he pointed his weapon at her.  
Sophia laughed again, “What is one woman-child compared to your might? Strike me down if my terms offend you. A fool I would be to betray a Warden.  
Rosalyn looked at Alistair, who shrugged but didn’t lower his sword. “Levi, I’m afraid your great-great grandmother is possessed.”  
“And she’s really let herself go. Sophia is dead; I don’t know what that is.”  
“Is there anything of Sophia left inside of you?”  
The creature laughed again, “This one has tasted her memories, seen her thoughts and hidden places. She is food for this one, no more, no less.”  
Alistair raised his sword to attack, “I think I’ve heard enough. Time for you to die!”  
“Fools!” Sophia screamed as she drew her sword and rushed Alistair. The room filled with shades, engaging each one of them away from Sophia except Alistair. He struck out at her with every bit of strength he had but she kept coming at him. He began to weaken and soon found all he could do was hold his shield and absorb her blows.  
Rosalyn struck out with her sword and took out the shade in front of her. Looking to Alistair, she saw his dilemma and started to move to his side. As she did, a second shade attacked her from behind and forced her into a defensive posture. “Jowan! Help Alistair!” she screamed as she fought the shades off.  
Jowan began to chant furiously as he struck back at the shade in front of him. Pulling out his dagger, he turned and cut his hand as he cast an ice spell at Sophia, freezing her in place. Casting Stone Fist at her, the Warden Commander shattered into a thousand pieces just as Alistair crumpled to the floor from a heavy blow.  
With Sophia dispatched, the shades soon followed. Rosalyn ran to Alistair’s side and helped him. “Sit still! Let Jowan check you first.”  
Jowan cast a healing spell on him even though he could find nothing outwardly wrong other than exhaustion. “You should be all right. Rest a while, we could all use one.” The last he said to everyone.  
Rosalyn helped him sit up and he leaned back against her as he caught his breath. Looking up at Jowan, he said, “Thank you, Jowan. You saved my life.” He held out his hand to the mage in friendship.  
Jowan took his hand and shook it strongly. “It was my pleasure, ser…Alistair. It’s a life worth saving. I owe you more than I can ever repay.” He smiled then and they both laughed, peace having finally been made.

@@@@@

They spent an hour or two resting and looking around for any evidence that would help them figure out what had happened at the fortress. Soris and Jowan picked up as many of the files and letters as they could and read through those that were still legible. Soris was first to comment, “The only thing I see is vague references to their ‘grand scheme.’ Lots of orders for foodstuffs and weapons; they were planning something really big here.”  
“Sophia Dryden seems to have been one of the major players for whatever it was. Many of these letters are asking for her approval or go ahead with other plans. Nothing here that pinpoints what those plans were,” said Jowan as he tossed the last of the letters aside. “It makes no sense. Why would anyone go to all this trouble to assault this base? There is so much more to this.”  
“Then let’s go on. We should get out of here soon. I don’t want to be here after dark,” said Alistair as he rose. Rosalyn stood up next to him and reached out with her senses to test his strength. “I’m all right,” he replied to her prodding and bent down to kiss her as proof.  
“Hmmmm….so you are. Let’s go then,” she said as she shouldered her bow and led the way out to the hallway, the others following her closely.  
A large door was set into a far end of the hallway. Jowan held up his hands and took a quick step back. “There’s something there! It pushed at me!”  
“Pushed? You mean it sensed you?” asked Alistair.  
“Yes, and it doesn’t want us to come in there. I think we’ve found what we’re looking for,” Jowan answered. He put up his hands and began to chant. His staff began to glow a bright blue as he cast at the door. Suddenly the door creaked loudly and the hinges snapped, leaving it ajar in its frame.  
“You couldn’t have done that before?” asked Rosalyn sarcastically.  
“What? And spoil all you and Soris’ fun?” Jowan answered. “You know me better than that, Roz.” They laughed but sobered quickly as they prepared to storm the room.  
Jowan chanted a cloaking spell and entered first, Alistair, Soris and Rosalyn following, with Leliana and Levi last. There was a short set of stairs that led into a large room. Torture racks and cages stood around the walls, scattered and rusting. A raised platform was at the far end, on which a man dressed in the robes of a Grey Warden mage stood looking down at a long table full of various pots, bowls and potions.  
As they got closer, he stood up straight and sighed. “I hear you…Don’t disrupt my concentration,” he warned. The mage turned slowly, revealing an ancient looking man, tall and once handsome but ravaged by centuries of living. When he spoke, his voice cracked from long periods of disuse, “Even now the demons seek to replenish their numbers. Are you to thank for his welcomed but temporary imbalance?”  
Jowan spoke first, “The old Warden mage from the visions. You are still alive?”  
The mage chuckled at Jowan’s awe. ”Only just. My time left is very short.”  
Leliana was terrified but found her voice, “Careful! This…man has dabbled in things forbidden by the Maker. He looks frail, but I do not trust him.”  
“So the Maker told you that; did he?” the mage laughed loudly at her innocence. Levi moved closer to Leliana and put his arm around her. “Short-sighted men have forbidden my research, not any god.”  
“Who are you, if I may ask you?” Alistair asked politely.  
The mage straightened his collar and looked down at Alistair, “I am Avernus, once chief mage of the Grey Wardens of Ferelden. But now…you see. Clearly you are Wardens so why are you here and are your intentions?”  
“We are here to rid the Peak of its plague of demons,” replied Rosalyn.  
Avernus nodded his agreement. “That should be your first and only priority.”  
Alistair stepped forward, “We do need some answers though.”  
“Of course you do. What are the questions?”  
“How have you survived all these years?”  
“As my body aged, I found ways to extend it; at a small price.” He came down the small staircase to where they stood on the floor, walking slowly and stiffly.  
Jowan looked around the room at the torture racks and decaying bodies, “With blood magic, I see.”  
Avernus regarded the young mage, his gaze knowing, “As you would know.” Jowan looked cowed for a moment but did not back down.  
“Tell us what happened here,” he asked.  
The old mage acquiesced, nodding at Jowan, “What use is storytelling now? The tyrant Arland is long dead as are his followers and nearly all of his descendants.” The last phrase he aimed at Alistair, who shifted uncomfortably in his stance. “Sophia’s corpse may walk and talk, but she, too, is no more.”  
“How was Arland a tyrant?” asked Alistair.  
“He ruled with fear and poison. His treacheries pit the nobles against each other in a terrible battle. Many thought him a monster so they gathered allies to rebel. Eventually even the Wardens fell prey to their plotting.”  
“And what happened to the rebellion?”  
He shook his head, “Too many mouths to quiet. Even sorcery can only go so far there. So we met with Teyrn Cousland to persuade him to our side. With him there was a chance. But we were ambushed and forced to flee here.”  
Jowan shook his head, “You practiced blood magic on the nobles?”  
Avernus laughed at the insinuation, “Of course! To keep our secrets safe; it was no less than what you would have done.” Jowan shook his head but Avernus went on, “Sophia forbade me using it on their leaders. It was her undoing.”  
“You had to know summoning so many demons was foolhardy.”  
“Perhaps it was, but it makes no difference now. For months I prepared the summoning circles while Arland’s men pounded the gates.” His voice became stronger as he told the tale, pride beginning to overwhelm him, “I researched the darkest depths of the Fade. It was a triumph of demonic lore. Alas, with so many variables, calculation errors are inevitable.”  
Levi could stand back no longer and stepped closer, “Commander Dryden knew of the demons?  
“She gave the order. I would have done it anyway. Only under Wardens can true magical research continue. We have a chance to rediscover the ancient secrets of the Tevinters!”  
“Then you are to blame for all of this,” accused Rosalyn.  
“From a Warden, that does mean something.” He shook his head, his years showing, “So tired…so old. I will undo my greatest of mistakes. Let me cleanse this place. Let us go to the great hall and I will repair the damage I have done. Then I will submit to whatever justice you feel I merit.”  
Rosalyn and Alistair looked at each other, each one gauging the others feelings. She nodded and he turned to Avernus, “Until the demons are dead, we are allies.”  
Avernus nodded, “That will do for now. There will be peril. The demons will fight us every step of the way. Come.” The group followed the old mage back to the great hall and what awaited them.

@@@@@

Avernus led the way back down the stairs to the great hall where they had found the summoning circles. The circles glowed with magical energy and grew brighter as they sensed their presence. The old mage raised his hands and chanted a spell and a shield came up around them, masking them from detection. “This will allow us to prepare but will last only a short time. Destroy anything that comes out of the doorway. I will unravel the circles. Let us begin,”  
“Levi, stay back with Leliana and Jowan and concentrate on the far demons. Lyn, Soris, and I will take those who get too close to Avernus.” He looked over at the mage,” Will that be sufficient?”  
“It will. I shall begin now.” To Jowan he said, “Concentrate on the mirror when you can, it will slow their entry.” Jowan nodded.  
Avernus walked to the first circle and began to chant loudly. The circle began to glow brighter and the mirror gate shone with a blinding light. Before they knew what was happening, the room was filled with shades and demons. They fought them one by one as Avernus chanted and Rosalyn noticed the first circle disappearing along with several of the demons. The old mage moved to the next circle in the sequence and began again, chanting loudly as the others continued to fight off the demons. When there was but one circle left, they faced the final foe, a desire demon and her minions. Rosalyn and Alistair took on the demon; Rosalyn stabbing it over and over as Alistair drained mana from it. A slice from his sword brought it down and the room was plunged into darkness.  
Jowan chanted and his staff lit up, illuminating the entire room. Avernus caught his breath and spoke, “It is over. The Veil is stronger now.” He sighed then continued, “I submit myself to your judgment. Would it be possible for me to be left to experiment in peace?”  
Alistair took Rosalyn’s arm and led her away from the others. “I’m a little confused here. What should we do? He is responsible for the deaths of many but they were in a situation that no one should ever be in.”  
“Perhaps if we knew what his research entailed. If it is something that could benefit the Wardens or others in a good way, he could be allowed to continue it supervised,” she remarked.  
“Avernus, what is the basis of your research?” Alistair asked.  
“I…you should know that it is in regards to the Wardens and the taint within us. I cannot say more in present company,” Avernus replied, his hand indicating Jowan, Leliana, Soris, and Levi.  
Alistair nodded in agreement. “Soris and Leliana, would you excuse us? Levi, bring the wagon up to the yard and find us someplace for shelter.”  
“We will. I’m famished, aren’t you?” Leliana asked Levi.  
“Indeed, I am,” he answered, smiling brightly. “Avernus, sir, would you join us for dinner later?”  
“Dinner. I haven’t….perhaps. We will see how our meeting goes,” he answered politely but uncomfortably. “Thank you.” He waved his hand towards the door, “Shall we?”  
“Jowan, you are with us,” said Alistair. He whispered, “I want to know anything you know about what he’s doing and whether he’s on the level.”  
Jowan was surprised to be included until Rosalyn whispered, “You are a Warden, even if you haven’t gone through the Joining.” He nodded and smiled, following Alistair and Avernus. Rosalyn stopped Soris and whispered something to him and the others. Leliana giggled and Levi smiled broadly saying, “I think we can handle that.” With that they took off and she joined the others.  
“What was all that?” asked Alistair.  
“A little task I needed done. Nothing to worry about, love,” she answered.  
“When you say that, I always feel like I should,” he answered. She laughed at his suspicion and they followed Avernus to his laboratory room.  
Avernus gave them a thorough tour of his laboratory and a complete accounting of his research and findings. He had discovered that the Darkspawn taint contained elements of great power that, once tapped, would make a Warden more powerful than any had ever imagined. He admitting to using unwilling subjects for his tests, a fact the others did not approve of. But while much of what he had discovered was foreign, Jowan was able to keep up, asking many questions and taking notes as they talked. Once he had shown them what he knew, Avernus stood back, allowing them to talk amongst themselves.  
They walked to the opposite side of the room where Alistair was first to speak, “I find this fascinating but cannot begin to understand even the smallest part. I have no idea what to do.”  
“Does this make any sense to you, Jowan?” Rosalyn asked.  
“Much of it is already known but he has taken some new approaches that the Chantry will find unacceptable. I think its valuable research but his methods of testing must change. Forcing subjects cannot be tolerated.”  
“So what do we do in the meantime?” asked Alistair.  
Rosalyn looked over at Avernus, standing patiently, waiting for their judgment. “Would it be so terrible to let him continue without the live subjects? We can send to Weisshaupt for someone better able to decide the matter. I am not comfortable doing it myself.”  
“That would be a reasonable choice, given our position. Let’s do it,” announced Alistair. “I don’t think he will be going anywhere as he doesn’t seem to have long to live.”  
Rosalyn nodded her agreement and looked to Jowan. He looked at them then at Avernus, then back again, “He will need supervision. Without it, he could return to old habits. I should like to stay, if I might.”  
“Stay here? With him?” asked Alistair, baffled.  
“Yes. I could study his notes and help him. When he is gone, I will make sure it is all kept for posterity and properly reported to the authorities at Weisshaupt. He only has a couple of months left, I can tell. I want this, Alistair. It’s a way I can make up for my misdeeds and make myself useful.”  
“Are you sure, Jowan? He could very well make you his next subject.” asked Rosalyn, laying her hand on Jowan’s arm in concern.  
“I’m sure. He’s too weak to be able to do much now. Most of what he has done in the last few years was to simply maintain spells he cast long ago; that takes much less mana than casting. I should be able to withstand him if he tries anything. If he will allow it, I will stay.”  
“Very well,” said Alistair. They returned to Avernus where Alistair announced, “You will be allowed to stay here and continue your work with some changes. You will no longer use unwilling subjects for testing or blood magic, and Jowan will remain here as your assistant and liaison with us. You are required to explain and report everything you have done here to him and he will document it.”  
Avernus was silent for a long moment, regarding the young Wardens. Clearly he had misjudged their strength and intelligence. “Very well, as you wish. I welcome the company.” He nodded to Jowan, who nodded back. “I do not sense the taint within him though. He has not gone through the Joining?”  
“No, he has not. We are new to the Wardens and do not possess the knowledge,” answered Rosalyn.  
“While I do not object to him being present as I work, if he is to assist, I would like that he be a Warden. I can take care of that, if you wish. It is the least I can do.”  
Alistair and Rosalyn looked at each other then turned to Jowan. “Jowan, are you ready to join us?” she asked.  
“Yes. Let’s do it,” he answered confidently.  
Avernus put his hand up in a gesture of blessing. “Then I will make the preparations while you eat and make camp. Return here when the moon rises and we shall have our Joining.” He started slowly to his table, then stopped and turned to them, “Would you…could you have some food sent to me while I work? It has been so long since I had anything good.”  
“Of course we will,” Rosalyn said, smiling.  
“Thank you,” said the old mage. He turned and walked up the steps to his lab table and began to work.

@@@@@

Levi, Soris and Leliana had set up camp in the main entrance hall. The fireplace was burning brightly and a hearty stew was bubbling in a large kettle. Leliana was busy making biscuits and cooking them on a hot pan.  
“Smells wonderful,” said Alistair, taking the lid off the pot and sniffing. “Is it ready?”  
“Very nearly,” Leliana replied, smacking his hand. “Just a few more to cook.”  
Rosalyn found a bowl and plate and dished up some stew and biscuits. “I’ll take these to Avernus. Where are Soris and Levi?”  
“Seeing to your little task. They should be just about ready.” Leliana leaned in and whispered to Rosalyn, “Second floor, the little room in the back.” Rosalyn nodded and took off on her errand.  
“What was that all about?” Alistair asked Leliana.  
She laughed at his suspicion. “You are too nosy. You’ll see.”  
“Women.”  
Leliana laughed, “Indeed.”  
After they had eaten, Alistair, Levi and Soris went out to secure the wagon and oxen for the night while Leliana and Rosalyn ran upstairs to the second floor. Jowan was there, fashioning some torches to hang in the wall sconces. “There,” he said, casting a spell that set them ablaze. “That should give you enough light.”  
“It looks great! Where did you find that? It’s huge!” Rosalyn asked, pointing to the bed.  
“Levi took three others apart and made it. I sewed three old straw ticks together quickly and we brought up as much sweet grass as we could find to fill it. It should be comfy enough for tonight. He will love it,” said Leliana.  
“I hope so. I owe it to him after the last time.” Her ears pricked at a yell from Alistair. “We’d better go; I’ll be back in about an hour or so. Jowan?” She gestured to the door and he followed, looking back at Leliana, who smiled at him warmly.  
They reached the downstairs hall and were met by Alistair. “What’s with all the secrecy?” he asked.  
“You’ll find out soon enough,” was all she would say. “Let’s go.” He sighed loudly and followed her.  
They walked to the old mage’s laboratory where he was waiting for them. Rosalyn noticed the empty bowl and plate sitting on his table where she had placed his portion of the stew. Avernus saw her look and said quietly to her. “It was delicious, thank you.”  
“You are very welcome,” she replied, smiling.  
Avernus gestured to the table and said, “Shall we begin?” To Jowan he said, “For a thousand years, men and women, warriors and mages, have stood together to battle the Darkspawn evil. We have drunk of the blood of our enemies and mastered the taint within us. Tonight you join us in that fight, Jowan.” He turned to the table and picked up the Joining chalice found by Rosalyn while they were at Ostagar. To her he said, “If you would, my dear.”  
Rosalyn spoke the words that Alistair had spoken to her only a few months ago. They had come so far in that time that it seemed a lifetime ago since she had heard them, but they still echoed in her head and heart as she spoke, "Join us, brother. Join us in the shadows where we stand vigilant. Join us as we carry the duty that cannot be forsworn. And should you perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten. And that one day we shall join you." Alistair’s hand took hers as she spoke.  
“Step forward, Jowan and drink from the cup as we did before you,” said Avernus. Jowan took the cup and drank, handing it back to the old mage. Avernus nodded to Rosalyn, who drew her dagger and came to stand next to him as the taint took him. Alistair stood behind him, ready to lend assistance.  
Jowan shook with pain and stumbled forward a step, doubling over. His body rose to an upright position as the taint took hold of him, his eyes glazed over darkly. Avernus looked to Rosalyn and shook his head and she sheathed her dagger and stepped back. Jowan collapsed and Alistair grabbed him, easing him to the floor. “He is strong. Good. He will need that strength,” said Avernus, pleased.  
Avernus took the chalice and returned to his table, stopping to look at it more closely. Rosalyn sat down and took Jowan’s head in her lap and smoothed his hair. Alistair bent and kissed the top of her head, whispering, “I love you,” then joined Avernus at the table.  
“Strange,” the mage said, “This is the same chalice I drank from all those many, many years ago. Yet tonight, it seems like it was only yesterday.”  
“It was over a year ago for me. I can still see the four us standing in that circle at the compound in Denerim. We lost only one that night,” replied Alistair as his finger traced the griffin emblem on the chalice.  
Avernus nodded. “I was the only one of six at my joining. It was also at the compound in Denerim. I had never been out of the Circle and was newly harrowed. I was so young….” He hung his head. “I have so much to regret in my life. I shall never be able to atone for it all.”  
Alistair put his hand on the man’s shoulder, “You have a chance to try.”  
The old man nodded and turned to look at Rosalyn as she sat with Jowan. “She is…yours?” he asked.  
“Yes.”  
“She is…a worthy heart. Do not lose her. The pain is…unbearable.”  
Alistair opened his mouth to question him, but stayed his tongue. Some things were better left alone, he thought. He looked down at Rosalyn as she held Jowan and smiled at her. “A worthy heart indeed,” he said.

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Jowan awoke from his nightmare with a cry, sitting up quickly as he called his magic for an imagined fight. “Shhh Jowan. It’s okay, you’re fine.” Rosalyn’s voice floated through the haze towards him like a healing balm. He closed his eyes and felt her hands as she soothed his brow. “Welcome back,” she said as she eased his head back down to her lap.  
“That was worse than any Harrowing could possibly be,” he said, closing his eyes tightly as he tried to master the pain. Avernus stepped forward and chanted a short phrase and healing energy engulfed Jowan’s body. The young mage sighed as his strength returned. He took Rosalyn’s hand from his brow and held it as he sat up. “Thank you, ser Mage.”  
“You are welcome. And you are correct, it is worse than the Harrowing. You have not been through that ordeal, I gather?” Avernus asked.  
Jowan hesitated for a moment before he answered, “No, I haven’t. I was…recruited before I could. It is a long story, I’m afraid.”  
“Then I look forward to hearing the tale. If you are able, shall we start? There is much for you to learn and little enough time to learn it.” He held out his hand and helped Jowan to his feet. Together they walked to the table, deep in conversation.  
Alistair held his hand out to Rosalyn, who took it as he helped her up. She went straight into his arms as his mouth found hers, his hand cupping her chin to hold her in place. After a moment, they pulled away, “I think they will be happy together, don’t you?” he asked, smiling.  
“It’s a match made in….well, I guess the Fade. I just hope it was the right thing to do,” she said.  
“I don’t think Jowan will allow any more of Avernus’ tricks. He was pretty adamant about his revulsion to the methods used. He may be a blood mage but you were right about him. He cares.”  
Rosalyn narrowed her eyes at his change of heart, “So all that fuss we went through about him was unnecessary?”  
“I wouldn’t say unnecessary, but in the end it was a lot of fun, wasn’t it? I do love fighting with you, you know.” His hand came around her and cupped her behind, lifting her towards him.  
“Oh! In the mood for some wrestling, I see.”  
“Always, love. How about you?”  
“Always. Shall we find someplace?”  
He kissed her in a possessive, wanton kiss that shook her to her toes. “Yes,” he replied, his voice betraying his desire.  
“Well, all right then,” she said, borrowing one of his favorite expressions. Taking his hand, she led him down the stairs to the second floor and the room in the back.  
“Where are we going? Is this the big secret?” he asked.  
“Just follow me,” she said.  
Rosalyn opened the door to the back room to reveal a warm and dimly lit room with a roaring fire in the small fireplace. A meal of meat, cheese and fruit was lying on a table with a large pitcher, glasses, and a bottle of wine. In the corner was a hastily made, large bed covered in a huge straw tick mattress and blankets and furs. Rosalyn went to the table and picked up the wine and took it to Alistair, who was still standing at the door, a peculiar look on his face. She presented him with the bottle, “I believe I said I’d provide the wine.”  
He took the bottle and looked down at it, a bottle of good Antivan red, and his favorite. “This is what you had Leliana doing?”  
“And Levi and Soris and Jowan. Everyone had a hand in it. I…I wanted to make up for missing it before. You wanted it so badly; peace and quiet, no keeping watch and a bed, you said. I just added one more thing…me.” She walked to the door and shot the bolt in place. “You have me all to yourself until morning. Now what will you do with me?”  
Alistair was dumbstruck as he looked at the room, the bed and finally Rosalyn. “You remembered,” he said, awestruck. “I thought…”  
She came to him and took the wine, setting it on the table before returning to stand in front of him, “You thought I wouldn’t remember? I told you before, I always remember what you tell me, and I always will. I choose you, Alistair Theirin. There is no one else.”  
“Stop that,” he said as he claimed her mouth in a searing kiss, his hands roaming over her body as she arched towards him. “I hate that name.”  
“So do I,” she replied, her hands reaching for the buckles of his breastplate. “Almost as much as I hate this armor you have on. Take it off. Now,” she ordered as she unfastened the buckles on the breast plate and greaves and pulled them off.  
“Yes, ma’am,” he replied as he unbuckled her chest piece and dropped it to the floor. Her greaves, gloves and boots soon followed as did his. Picking her up, he carried her to the bed and set her down, pulling on the laces of her breeches and pulling her shirt up and over her head. She pulled his laces and he took off his shirt, her hands exploring him. Their smallclothes followed and he stood still, looking down at her in awe. “I’ve never seen you before. The light was so dim the first time. Maker! You are so beautiful!” His arms took hers and pulled her up to him and he buried his face in her hair, shaking with emotion.  
Rosalyn held him close and stroked his back as he calmed. When he had, she pulled the thong from her hair and shook it out for him. “I’m not going anywhere, Alistair. Never. Please!” she begged.  
Alistair picked her up and set her against his hardness. She moaned as she felt her wetness sliding against him and he captured her mouth in a kiss and set her down on the bed, pushing into her core. They gasped as they joined themselves and began to thrust immediately against each other. Rosalyn wrapped her legs around him as he probed deeper into her and they climbed to a peak together. Just as she was breaking he called out to her, “Look at me, Rosalyn! Watch me!” She opened her eyes and looked into his and saw the passion breaking. She called his name and was soon crashing with him as they watched each other, their own version of the Joining, until they fell back on the bed, spent with emotion and exertion. He curled her into his arms and held her tightly, pulling the blankets over them, whispering, “I love you.”  
“I love you, Alistair,” she replied sleepily as she settled herself in his arms. And for a while, there was peace in their lives.

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	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> City elf Rosalyn Tabris finds her destiny and the love of her life with the Grey Wardens. Non-canon plot with a lot of fun mixed in. A gift for my friends at Dragon Age Nexus.

Dawn came too early for either Rosalyn or Alistair’s liking. Sleep had eluded them most of the night as they preferred to enjoy each other instead of getting the rest they both knew they needed. Only after their bodies collapsed and refused to continue did they finally fall asleep to stay, Rosalyn tucked neatly in Alistair’s arms under the pile of furs. As the early morning light became visible in the slit windows high up in the room, Alistair kissed Rosalyn and got up to relieve himself. She stirred and sighed, burying herself deeper into the furs where he had lain, absorbing his warmth.  
Gauging the time of day, Alistair knew their time was short. They were expected at Lake Calenhad within the week to meet the others and start the long journey to Orzammar, the last leg of their journey. He dreaded the underground city as much as the Deep Roads and knew Rosalyn would hate it more. She wasn’t the type to be closed in for long and it was likely that they could be there for a while if the rumors Bodahn had heard about King Endrin’s health were true.  
Alistair walked to the table where the food still sat, untouched from the night before. He cut a piece of cheese and poured a glass of ale from the pitcher, smelling it first and smiling as he realized it wasn’t the cheap kind he hated and always seemed to get. “She really does pay attention,” he thought as he drank from the glass, “I’ll never measure up to this.” He looked over to the bed where she lay, sleeping peacefully and looking so beautiful. With a final look up at the window to gauge the time, he downed the ale and cheese quickly and headed back to the bed for as much time as he could.  
Rosalyn awoke, feeling the touch of his hands on her skin and moaned slightly as those hands found a place she liked. Alistair laughed at her reaction and doubled his efforts to arouse her. She sat up and looked down at him, “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever been awakened so wonderfully.”  
“Then I intend to do it this way from now on,” he replied as he worked his way back up to her mouth. “And try twice as hard.” He captured her lips in a deep kiss as she relaxed back down and he settled between her legs.  
She laughed at his efforts, smacking her lips, “Mmmm….cheese and ale. I’ve never had breakfast this way before.” Her last thought was lost as he entered her. “Uhhhh…,” she said as she tried to form another thought, “…oh, never mind.” Alistair chuckled at her distraction and they took their time finishing their breakfast.  
Half an hour later, the sun was full up as they heard Soris knocking on the door, “Roz! Alistair! Are you there?”  
Rosalyn groaned and buried her head in Alistair’s neck, “Send him away. I want to stay here.”  
Alistair laughed, “If we only could love. I suppose I had better tell him we aren’t dead or anything.” He sat up and stretched, “Okay, okay, Soris! We hear you. Is everyone up yet?”  
“Just me. Leliana and Levi…well, they aren’t up yet either. What’s the plan?”  
He looked at Rosalyn. “Leliana and Levi?” She smiled and nodded and he said, “Huh. I missed that.” To Soris he said, “Load the wagon and see if you can find them. Tell Jowan we are leaving and that I’d like to see him before we go.”  
“All right. Do you have some food? I’m starved.”  
Rosalyn laughed, “I’m coming, Soris. Go start your work.” To Alistair she said, “Boy, some things never change.” She sat up and scooted to the edge of the bed, “He’ll stay there until I feed him.” She stood up and shivered in the cold room, her arms clasped about her. “Brrr! It’s freezing in here! Where are my clothes?”  
He laughed at the family humor, “Your breeches are over there, your shirt is over there, and your small clothes are anywhere.” He pointed in three opposite directions, laughing as she ran all around the room looking.  
“Funny. Just wait until you have to find yours,” she replied sarcastically. “You’ll never find them. Where did you say my smallclothes were? Oh never mind.” She sat down on the bed and started pulling on her breeches and shirt. He pulled her down next to him and kissed her soundly. “Stop that! Soris is right, we have to go. It’s a long way to Orzammar. Besides, we have every night from now on, right?”  
“So is this where you ask me to move in with you?” His face was serious but there was a twinkle in the sky blue eyes.  
Rosalyn pulled on a sock and grabbed another, throwing it down when she saw it was Alistair’s, “Well….I suppose it’s a given that you do.”  
“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you just asked me for a commitment.”  
He had her and she knew it. “It would be nice…if you wanted,” she said softly.  
Alistair sat up and looked at her; this was a side she hadn’t shown before and he liked it, the woman in love. “I do want it, Lyn. I want you, always, wherever we are.”  
Rosalyn smiled as she looked at him. This was all so new and wonderful; she didn’t know what to think. “Then yes, I want you to move in with me.”  
“Then I accept,” he replied, holding his hand out to shake hers to seal the deal. She put hers out and he pulled her down into his lap. “Maker! I do love you, you know.” He held her close and kissed her.  
“I wouldn’t be able to do all this without you.” She buried her face in his neck and clung to him, “I’d be so lost. I love you so much.” She kissed him then pulled back, “I will always remember this night as our first even though the other one was very nice.”  
“Well, I’m glad you liked it. Lightning didn’t strike me dead so I’d say it was a success.”  
“Lightning?”  
“It’s a Chantry thing.”  
“Oh…sure,” she said, puzzled. “Time to go then. Now, where are my boots?”  
A half hour later, they had dressed and bundled up their gear to leave. They took one last look around the room they had shared so well the night before and looked at each other and smiled, the upcoming night on both their minds. “Get everything?” asked Alistair.  
“Never did find my smalls. My best pair too,” she lamented.  
“Oh, I’m sure they’ll turn up somewhere. If not, I’ll buy you some new ones, lacy.” He smiled a wicked smile as he stuffed his hand in the pocket of his breeches and felt the soft cotton garment he’d hidden there. “Whatever color you want.”  
Rosalyn looked sideways at him and narrowed her eyes. “Okay…I’ll think about that.” She headed for the door and opened it, heading down the stairs to the main hall.  
“You do that, love,” he replied, still smiling wickedly, watching her backside all the way down the stairs.

The Road to Lake Calenhad

Soris had the wagon mostly packed when they emerged from the fortress. Rosalyn handed him some cheese and bread when he had finished. “Thanks, cousin.”  
Leliana and Levi were sitting on the steps, close together, whispering and laughing to each other. “Did you really?” asked Levi, “And here I thought that all bards did was sing and tell stories; seems like I need to pay attention more.”  
“Don’t worry, you paid attention very well,” Leliana replied seductively, making Levi blush as she planted a kiss on his cheek. “Very well.” He smiled and kissed her softly.  
“Good morning everybody!” boomed Alistair as he came up on them from behind and startled them. He smiled his wicked smile again and asked, “Sleep well Leliana?”  
She blushed, “Yes, Alistair, very well.” She whispered to him, “I’ll get you for that.”  
“I look forward to it,” he whispered back, laughing at her and winking.  
Leliana smiled back, whispering, “And you?”  
“Never better.”  
“Good. We can travel fast today, then. Hmmm?”  
Alistair narrowed his eyes as she watched him stifle a yawn, “Sure.”  
She cocked her head, “I thought so.” She rejoined Levi, who was blissfully unaware of the double entendre conversation, much to her relief.  
Rosalyn came up to his side, “You are so mean this morning, you know.”  
“Just feeling very good, love. Aren’t you?” he asked.  
“Yes, but I’m not going to advertise it. They have enough to talk about without talking about us.”  
“It just means they care,” he said, putting his hand into his pocket and stroking the soft cotton of her missing smallclothes. “Nice to be cared for, isn’t it?”  
Rosalyn’s brow was furrowed with confusion as she regarded him, “Yes, it is. But I wonder sometimes…” She didn’t finish as she looked up to see Jowan and Avernus descending the steps to them. “Good morning, Jowan, Avernus.”  
Avernus squinted in the bright morning sun, “Uhhhh…yes, good morning…uhhhh. Rosalyn.” His hand went up to his eyes to shade the sun. “It has been some time since I was out.”  
Jowan looked down at her and smiled, “Sleep well?”  
“When I did,” she replied mischievously. “You?”  
“Not really. Seems one of the effects of blood magic spells that prolong life is the inability to sleep. Avernus kept me up all night with his research. It’s all so amazing and a bit frightening.”  
“So you won’t be trying any of that now?” asked Alistair.  
“No ser! Only for saving others and then only if there’s no choice.”  
Alistair nodded, “Speaking of that, I owe you something. I want you to have this.” He handed Jowan a dagger from his belt. “It belonged to Duncan, my mentor in the order. Please.”  
“But I can’t take this! I mean…Duncan was your friend. I didn’t even know him except from what Roz has told me.”  
“No. It’s yours. It should go to a Grey Warden and you will get more use out of it than I will. Keep it sharpened and oiled for me.”  
“I will, Alistair. Thank you.” He held out his hand and Alistair took it in both of his and shook it.  
“I’m still against the blood magic, just so you know. But keep trying to prove me wrong.”  
Jowan smiled, “I will. Maker keep you Alistair. Good luck to you.” He pulled Rosalyn into an embrace and whispered, “Take care of him…and yourself.”  
“Maker keep you Jowan. Be careful and come to us when you can,” she replied. To Avernus she said, “Maker keep you Avernus and thank you.”  
“He won’t, but I thank you for the sentiment all the same. Have a good journey, my dear. Jowan?” the old mage waved his hand to the big doors.  
Leliana kissed Jowan goodbye and Soris and Levi shook his hands. Sadly, he turned and joined Avernus and walked into the fortress.  
“That is a huge place. Could take some time before it was restored, but it would make a great place to store trade goods. Perhaps I’ll set up here with my brother. He’s a fine smith and needs a big place to work in,” commented Levi.  
“I think that would be a great idea!” exclaimed Leliana. “That way someone could keep an eye on things for the Wardens.”  
“Would that be all right Wardens? In return, I’ll provide supplies, weapons, and armor for the Grey Wardens at cost.”  
Alistair looked down at Rosalyn, who nodded. “It’s a deal, Levi. Get your family and set up here. I’ll make sure the Wardens know.”  
“Wonderful! Mikhael will be so pleased I finally found a place. He’s a fine smith and I’m sure he will be happy to serve you also. In the meantime, Let‘s get started, we’ve got a ways to go,” Levi said. He skipped down the stairs to the waiting wagon and climbed up to the seat. He held his hand out for Leliana, who grabbed it, climbed up to sit beside him, linking her arm in his.  
Rosalyn gave one last look at the fortress then looked at Alistair, “I’m ready.” He held out his hand and they headed to the waiting wagon.

The Road to Orzammar

Fortunately the road was quiet all the way to Lake Calenhad. Levi was good to his word and took them straight there, then bid them goodbye as he headed back to Denerim to meet his brother. As a going away present, Alistair presented Levi with his bow, “Thank you Alistair. I’ll take good care of it. So long and good luck Wardens. Maker keep you!”  
“Good journey, Levi. Thanks for all your help,” Rosalyn told him, hugging him goodbye. Leliana walked with Levi for a few hundred yards then they stopped and had their goodbyes. She walked back slowly, tears in her eyes and disappeared until supper, when Alistair went to find her. She walked back with him, her arm in his, still sad but ready to work. Rosalyn smiled at the both of them as she dished up the stew.  
Later, Wynne excused herself and headed into the woods, presumably to take care of her personal needs. When she didn’t come right back, Rosalyn became worried and went to look for her. About twenty yards into the woods, she began to hear strange noises coming from a clearing ahead of her. Rosalyn nocked an arrow and drew, slowly creeping up on the noise. She reached the edge of the clearing, and couldn’t believe what she saw ahead of her.  
Wynne was backed up against a tree, her dress hiked up around her hips. Sten was holding her up as he drove into her, both moaning from the exertion and excitement of the moment. Rosalyn slowly backed up into the bushes and sat down, afraid to retreat as they might hear her and be alarmed. Wynne suddenly cried out her release as Sten pumped, finally spilling himself into her. They whispered to each other and helped each other with their clothing and armor then started back to camp going separate ways. When she felt they were gone, Rosalyn stood and returned to the camp a different way, making it appear she had just gone into the woods to relieve herself.  
The next day, after the day’s journey and work was done, Leliana, Wynne, Morrigan and Rosalyn went down to a small stream to clean up and do some laundry. Leliana was all smiles as Rosalyn had told her about what she had seen the night before. “So…Wynne, tell us about Sten. How did that start?”  
Wynne was taken aback at first until she realized they only wanted to know, not berate her. “Well…he’s Qunari.”  
“And?” asked Leliana. “Tell us more.”  
“The Qunari are a little different when it comes to the idea of sex.”  
“They can’t be that different than other men,” commented Morrigan.  
The older mage was noticeably confused as to how to explain it all. “They aren’t in that aspect. They need release just as human and elven men. It’s just that they don’t form attachments like we do. They usually allow the female to choose them. If she likes their look, then she’ll ask them if they would like to mate. If they say yes and the Tamassran agrees with the choice, then they set a time and take care of it.”  
Rosalyn brow furrowed, “Sounds horribly businesslike.”  
“It is, I guess. He approached me in Redcliffe and asked if I was interested. He said that even though I was a mage, a saarebas, he called me; I was an acceptable woman of experience and talent. Then he asked me if I would like to mate with him. He explained that occasionally a Qunari man would have ‘needs’ so to speak. He wanted me to take care of those needs.”  
“So you did,” said a curious Morrigan, as she rinsed out Zevran’s’ shirt.  
“Uhhhh….yes, I did.”  
Leliana was intrigued, asking sheepishly, “How was he?”  
Wynne’s face became a little dreamy as she thought about him, “Marvelous. He knows things.” To which they all laughed, except Morrigan, who managed a slight smile. To Leliana, Wynne asked, “And what about Levi the trader? How was he?”  
Leliana blushed as she thought of Levi, “He was sweet and kind and I enjoyed my time with him. His wife died a few years ago and he hadn’t had anyone since. He was quite good…and desperate.” They all laughed again. To Rosalyn she asked, “And how is Alistair? Don’t pretend we don’t know.”  
Rosalyn turned red as she thought about what to say. In the Alienage, it was common for others to know about liaisons between unmarried lovers, but it was seldom discussed unless scandal was involved. “Well…he knows things too. Now he knows more.” They burst into laughter at her statement, except Morrigan, who looked stunned and disappointed, taking off into the trees.  
As they sat there laughing and working, Alistair came down to the creek carrying his shirts and breeks. “Lyn, do you mind? I’ll sharpen your weapons.”  
She smiled and took the clothing from him, “Okay. But not so hard this time, they aren’t broadswords, they’re daggers.” She took the bundle from him as the other women giggled.  
“What’s so funny?” he asked.  
Leliana, Wynne and Rosalyn looked at each other and burst out in giggles, causing him to run his hand through his hair. “Nothing, love. We’re fine here.” She turned him around and headed him in the direction of camp.  
He turned with her hand, “Okay…if you say so.” He started walking back to camp as they started laughing. “Women,” he said and they laughed harder.  
Rosalyn looked up and noticed that Morrigan was missing. She didn’t take much notice of it as Morrigan often took off by herself without warning. This time seemed different but she couldn’t put a hand on why. Shaking the feeling off, she stood up, “Help me here. I’ll never get them clean by myself. The man is a mess.” They all laughed at her words, chatting away while washing. When they had finished, they wrung the clothes out and gathered them to hang up near the fire. Rosalyn was last to leave the creek, looking back to see if they had left anything. As she walked back to camp, she missed the pair of glowing yellow eyes in the trees, watching her as she walked.

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On their way back to camp, Wynne stopped Rosalyn and asked to speak to her alone. “I have a…request to make while we are at Orzammar, if I may.”  
“Of course, Wynne, if I can. What is it?” she answered.  
“Sten told me about the unfortunate business with the family from Lothering. He is torn up about it, I know. He told me how it happened.”  
“What happened?”  
“When he awoke after the farmers rescued him, asking about his sword, they said they hadn’t found it. When he questioned them further, he became furious that they did not have it or know where it was. They had cared for the bodies of his companions but had found no swords or armor on them. It had been stripped by passing thieves no doubt. When they could tell him no more, his grief and loss was too great and he lashed out, killing the family and their animals.”  
“Maker!”  
“Indeed. For the Qunari warriors, their swords are not just weapons, they are a part of them. Without them, they are without…honor, is the closest I could describe but it is deeper than that. He told me it happened not far from here, so while we waited for you, he and I journeyed to the area and looked for it. We found a man there who was plundering what little was left. He told us that he found out about the place from a man named Faryn, a trader headed to Orzammar. While we are there, can we look for this man and ask him? I feel I…owe to him to find out. He has been quite kind.”  
Rosalyn smiled, “Of course we can. We’ll see what we can do. I owe it to Sten and you too.”  
“Thank you dear, you are so kind to me and him. Alistair is a very lucky man and I shall be sure to tell him so,” she said. She hugged Rosalyn and kissed her cheek. “I am glad you are happy with him. We are all happy for you too.”  
“Thank you, Wynne. Me too,” she said, giggling with her. They walked on back to camp where Alistair and Sten were waiting, sitting by the fire with their swords and Zevran, talking of battle and glory. The women smiled at each other and joined them, sitting by their men. When the talk was done, Leliana sang them to sleep with a song or two.  
Rosalyn laid her head on Alistair’s shoulder as she listened, her hand in his. He turned to her and kissed the top of her head, “Tired?”  
“Not too much, why?” she answered.  
“I was wondering if you would like to take a walk with me,” he asked.  
“Sure, let’s go,” she answered. As soon as Leliana had finished, they clapped and praised her and left the circle, hand in hand. Alistair led her past their tent where he ducked in and pulled out two towels.  
“What are those for?” she asked, curious.  
Alistair chuckled, “You mean you don’t know?”  
“Don’t know what?”  
“Well, when something gets wet, you can use these to dry it off,” he replied, laughing as she hit him on the arm. “Ow! I bruise easily, you know.”  
“I’m tempted to find out just how easily. Where are we going?”  
He pulled back a branch as they walked through the trees. “A special place I found earlier while scouting with Zevran. We were talking about the Brecilian Forest and what happened in the ruins.”  
“And….?  
“He was like me in that he was concerned that you were so afraid of water. We decided to help you with it, although I nixed the idea of him helping personally. He found a place where the water is deep enough to swim but not too deep to be terrifying. So…I wanted to know if you would consider letting me teach you to swim.”  
“Teach me to swim!”  
“Come on Lyn, it’s not so bad. I’ve watched you and since then you have allowed yourself to get closer to water. You even sit on the bank and dangle your feet where before you refused to even go get water. Leliana said the other day you actually waded into a stream to get a runaway shirt.”  
“In three inches of water and a hard sandy bottom; if I’d stopped to think about it, I wouldn’t have done it,” she told him. “Why is this so important to you?”  
He stopped for a minute and looked down at her, his look and demeanor serious. “We are Wardens Lyn. We have to be prepared for every possible contingency. That might mean swimming on occasion. Consider it part of your Warden training.”  
Rosalyn thought for a moment. She reached out with her feelings and could tell how much it meant that she be able to. He wasn’t lying about that. She turned to look back towards camp and remembered the time in the ruins. She had nearly jeopardized the mission because of her irrational fear. It had shaken her and she couldn’t let that fear rule her. Softly she said, “Yes. You are right. Teach me.”  
She turned around and he was smiling, proud that she had conquered the fear. “You won’t be sorry, love. I promise it will be fun too. We will take it a step at a time.” He held out his hand, “The first step is saying yes. Number two is going to the water. Ready?” He held out his hand for her to take it.  
“Okay,” she said and put her hand in his. “Well,” she thought, “I’m always ready for a new adventure.” Alistair laughed as he reached out with his senses and sensed her feelings.  
“It will be fun, I promise,” he said and led her on.

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The spot was about two hundred yards from camp, in a place where several logs had fallen into the stream and made a small pond that looked to be about four to five feet deep in places. There was a full moon out so the water was lit up with light and they could see each other and the water well.  
“Here we are. Pretty, isn’t it? Zevran knows how to find a spot,” Alistair said. “The water isn’t cold either. It seems to be fed partially by a warm spring.”  
“It’s lovely, Alistair,” Rosalyn said as she stopped about twenty feet from the edge and looked at the scene. “Ummm…what next?”  
His voice was a little husky, betraying his feelings. “Step three, take off your clothes.”  
Rosalyn’s eyebrows raised a little, “How much clothes?”  
He laughed, “As much as you want, but I intend to take them all off. Boys do that, you know.”  
“No, I don’t know. Girls don’t swim that much, I guess.” She took off her boots and socks, breeches and shirt and stood in her smallclothes. “This okay?”  
He finished taking off his clothes and stood in front of her with nothing on. “I don’t think so, but I’ll let you decide. We are here to do a job. Fun can come later.” She nodded and took his hand as he offered it.  
“Step four, go to the water.” He led her to the water until she got to the edge and stopped. “Now, sit down here and put your feet in the water. Just like before.”  
Rosalyn sat down next to him and slowly put her feet in the water. Instead of coldness against her feet, it was warm and comforting. “It’s not that bad.”  
“I’m glad you like it. Ready for the next step? You’ve done it before.” He slid into the water and she saw it came up to his waist. He held out his hands for hers. “Come love, you can do this.”  
Rosalyn’s eyes grew wide as she contemplated the next step. “I…I don’t know.”  
“It’s just like before. I won’t be diving under or anything. I’ll hold you the whole time.” Slowly she held out her hands and he came forward and put his arms around her waist as she slid into his arms. He wrapped her legs around his waist as he held her close and kissed her tenderly. She relaxed a little and sighed into his mouth. “Now that’s better. Just where I wanted you.” He chuckled softly at her as she tightened her hold on him. She could feel how hard he was already.  
“I thought this was supposed to be a lesson?” she asked, looking down between them.  
“Well, it is, but there are some variables I am unable to control, you see.”  
“I see very well, and feel. You are a sneaky one, Alistair Theirin. Are you sure you aren’t a thief or rogue?”  
“Stop calling me that. And the only thing I ever stole was your heart.” He laughed and pulled her closer, kissing her nose, “Ready for the next step?” She nodded. “This is the hard one. Now you need to turn over on your back and lay across my arms as they are outstretched. You’ll be floating but I will have my hands under you all the time.”  
“Lay on my back! I’ll sink!” she cried and started to struggle.  
“You’ll drown if you get away from me and I’m not letting you. I love you too much and there’s no one to replace you. Now do what I say, girl!”  
Rosalyn stopped struggling and reached out with her Warden sense. He was telling the truth, she could tell. Slowly she unhooked her legs from around his waist and let them float freely. Alistair brought his arms under her knees and around her waist, holding her. “Now,” he said, “stretch out your legs. That’s it. Now slowly lay your head back into the water so just your hair is wet.” She lay back slowly until her hair was in the water, closing her eyes. “Relax, love. Think of something that makes you feel comfortable and safe.”  
The water felt wonderful against her skin and so did his arms and other parts. She thought of sleeping next to him in the big bed at the Keep, warm and safe and happy. Her body began to go limp and she felt his arms come up and catch her as she floated away. “Not too relaxed, love. You must always be aware of your surroundings.” Rosalyn nodded and lay back, this time keeping her mind on the work at hand. Soon she found herself floating in the water, not feeling Alistair’s arms or hands on her.  
“Can I tell you a secret, love? You’ve been floating by yourself for five minutes now. How does it feel?”  
“It feels good. Not too scary and comfortable. What ‘s the next step?”  
He laughed, “Ready for another one? Okay, next you lay on your stomach. You can float like that but you will have to put your face in the water for a bit. Not to drown, but hold your breath. Ready?” She nodded and turned over. “Take a deep breath and put your head in the water. Keep your eyes closed for now. Hold it as long as you can then come up. Go slow.” Rosalyn nodded and took a deep breath, closing her eyes and putting her head in the water quickly. In three seconds, she was up and coughing, nearly crying. Alistair held her close as she caught her breath. “Okay?” he asked, concerned.  
“Sorry, you said slowly. I’m not listening again.”  
“You are doing fine. I am so proud of you, love. Try again.” She turned in his arms and took a deep breath and held it, slowly lowering her head into the water. Alistair counted to ten and she popped up, coughing but not choking.  
“I did it!” she exclaimed, out of breath. “Can I do it again?”  
He laughed hard, “Of course. Let’s try for a count of thirty. Go when you are ready.”  
Rosalyn took a deep breath and put her face into the water and held her breath for the full count. When she was through, her head came up and she took a deep breath and smiled. “I did it again!” He brought her up and kissed her as she sighed into his mouth. “What’s next?” she asked.  
“You take those smallclothes off, please,” he said. His hands came around her and she felt her breast bands loosen and slide off.  
She reached up to grab them to keep them from floating away but Alistair had them off and threw them up on the bank, followed by her smalls. “Another step, I presume?” she asked as her arms came around his neck and she rubbed against him.  
Alistair moaned as he felt the contact with her skin. “The lesson is ended. Time to pay the teacher.” His mouth came down on hers in a possessive kiss, parting her lips for his tongue. They tasted each other for minutes, until he lowered her down onto him, gasping as she took him in.  
Rosalyn moaned as he entered her, hard and wet. She let her hands hang loose and leaned back in the water as he pushed into her. Her legs hooked around his hips as he held her and started to thrust. For a time they were floating joined only in one place. Alistair’s hand came down and his thumb grazed her sex, circling the bud. Rosalyn moaned and squeezed him and the waves broke as she came, calling his name and the Maker’s. He followed her, stroking into her twice more and spilling into her before pulling her close to him and cradling her as she returned from her peak.  
“I’ve wanted to do that since I first saw you. I kept thinking you’d look great wet. Maker, it was more than great!” he said, kissing her neck and stroking her hair. “When all this is over, and the Archdemon is dead and there’s someone on the throne, I’ll take you someplace warm and we’ll swim and love all day and night for a week.”  
“I knew there was an ulterior motive to all this,” she said. “But I love it. And I promise I’ll work hard and learn well. What’s the next step?”  
“We go to bed and make love again, sleep until dawn, walk all day and start over. I’ll find another swimming hole, I promise.” He waded to the bank, still holding her in his arms.  
“Alistair?”  
“Hmmm?”  
“Even if you weren’t my lover, I’d still love you. I thought you should know that.”  
“I prefer it this way.”  
“Me too.”

Orzammar

Traveling through the mountains was long and difficult as spring had not yet reached the Frostbacks and they were forced to detour to lower elevation passes on several occasions, doubling their trip time. Rosalyn and Alistair were eager to finish the journey so they could get down to the business of fighting the war and the Archdemon, but welcomed the delays as it meant more time for them to be together. She not only learned to swim but took to it like a fish, much to Alistair’s chagrin as he was enjoying the time he spent teaching her. He liked the vulnerable side of her and saw it infrequently. Rosalyn secretly reveled in her new-found strength but was conscious of the fact that Alistair was enjoying their lessons so much. She made a habit of pretending to forget how once in a while just to set up another lesson. He played along very well.  
After three weeks of arduous travel, the group found themselves walking the main road to the gates of Orzammar, capital of the dwarven kingdom. They marveled at the huge statues, arches and walls that lined the road, most were cut from the living rock itself and were so smooth and lifelike that they appeared to be living creatures. Rosalyn took a step back from a particular statue of a long dead and forgotten paragon of the dwarves, her hand on her dagger, feeling as if the man was glowering at her, ready to strike her down for the slightest insult. Alistair chuckled at her and took her hand, squeezing her fingers, but he was affected the same as she. “I hate this place already,” he said to her. Rosalyn nodded as she felt the Darkspawn presence that lurked behind the stone. It felt as strong as it did at Ostagar.  
A bridge across a small stream that rolled down from the mountain above lay in front of them and Zevran noticed a group of heavily armed men congregating near it. He quickly caught up to the Wardens and voiced his concern, “I do not like the look of this, my dear Wardens. It smells of ambush to me. Those men are too heavily armed and too alert to be just ‘standing around.’”  
“What should we do?” Rosalyn asked both he and Alistair.  
“I will approach them first with…Sten, Morrigan and Leliana. We will gauge their readiness.” Zevran motioned for the others to join him and together they walked to the bridge as if there was nothing wrong. They got about ten feet from the group before they were attacked.  
“Wardens! Get them!” yelled the leader. The small party attacked the group and was soon joined by Alistair, Rosalyn and Wynne. It took only a few minutes until the attackers lay dead or wounded. Zevran and Sten spent time questioning one survivor as to their intent and who had hired them.  
“Loghain,” answered Zevran when Rosalyn asked who had hired the men. “He has hired every mercenary company he could find to come and fight for him. The price on your heads has doubled since we last checked. Too bad, it is a good price.” He laughed as the Wardens blanched. “Do not worry, my friends. It will never be enough for me.”  
As they drew closer they could see the small town of traders that had cropped up around the gates, most hawking their wares to any who passed by to look. There were small shacks behind each stall, filled with women and children, many in rags and thin. Most of the traders were dwarven but there were a few humans and elves.  
“The casteless,” explained Bodahn. “They have been cast out of the kingdom or have chosen to pursue a permanent life outside of the city. Only selected traders and the nobility leave the city and are able to return.”  
“So all these people stay here and live this way by choice?” Rosalyn asked the merchant. “It’s not as if there is no choice for them, is it?” She was clearly upset with the situation.  
“Forgive me, my dear,” Bodahn said, “They are casteless, yes, but they choose to live here where they are free to choose what and who they wish to be, instead of living with a system that dictates based on who their parents were. Some are criminals who have been banished for their misdeeds, but most live here simply to be free. It is a situation I know you would understand.”  
Indeed she did understand. While most elves lived in the Alienages, they were able to live most anywhere they wished, if they were willing to live poorly and in servitude. She prized her freedom higher than anything with the exception of her love for Alistair. It wasn’t something she would ever give up easily. “You are right, Bodahn. I do.” He smiled up at her and reached out to pat her hand as her father would have done. Rosalyn felt a pang of homesickness for an instant as she thought of Cyrion and his entrapment in his home. She brushed it aside quickly as she turned to her work, knowing Cyrion would not want her to mourn him so. “Let’s check out the gates. Perhaps we can get some information from the guards there.”  
Alistair and Rosalyn approached the huge gate doors and heard sounds of yelling coming from them. A human man in armor with the markings of Loghain’s coat of arms was berating the dwarven guard who appeared to be in charge. “This land is held in trust for the sovereign kings of the Dwarven kingdoms. None shall enter at this time,” the dwarf told the man.  
The human wasn’t impressed with the answer or the dwarf’s tone, “King Loghain demands the allegiance of the deshyrs or lords or whatever you call them! I will be allowed entry!”  
Alistair turned to Rosalyn and said sarcastically, “King Loghain! My, aren’t we pretentious today!” She shook her head in disgust, agreeing with his assessment.  
“I don’t care if you are the king’s wiper! No one will enter until this business with our throne is settled. Get out of my way!” said the dwarf as he turned back to the gates, his men closing in behind him, hands on their weapons. Loghain’s representative turned on his heel and walked away with his men, mumbling to himself.  
“Excuse me, ser, what is going on here? Why can’t anyone enter the city?” asked Alistair in his kindest tone.  
The dwarf turned around and saw a new group of humans, expecting the same results as before, “Orzammar has no king since Endrin returned to the stone. After a dozen votes, the city is in chaos and civil war is beckoning. What do you want?”  
Rosalyn stepped forward, “We are Grey Wardens and seek leave to enter the city. We have a treaty obliging the Assembly to hear our pleas and assist us.” She handed the scroll to the dwarf and he read it quickly.  
“That is the royal seal and does seem to be genuine. Very well, Wardens, you and your party may pass through but I don’t know what help you will find there with all that has happened.”  
“You are letting in these…Wardens! They are traitors to the crown! I demand you hand them over as war criminals,” screamed Loghain’s emissary, who had been listening.  
Sten stepped forward and stretched to his full height as he looked down upon the man, “Run to your king, boy. The dwarves will not hear him today.”  
The emissary’s eyes grew wide as he backed away from the Qunari, “Loghain will hear of this,” he warned.  
“I certainly hope so. Do tell him we are coming for him,” said Rosalyn sweetly. Alistair drew his sword and the emissary turned and nearly ran down the hill, his men following. He looked down at Rosalyn and smiled, whispering, “You can be so evil sometimes. I love it!” She laughed.  
The dwarven guards laughed to see the humans withdraw so quickly. “Atrast vala Wardens! Enter the city and thank you for the entertainment!” exclaimed the dwarven commander. “Open the gates!” The huge gates swung open slowly to allow their entrance and the group entered the underground lair of the dwarves.

The Dwarven Assembly

The huge gates opened to reveal a city in chaos and without a king. As the companions walked along the commons way they saw no less than four fights or small battles between factions supporting one candidate or another. Clearly the person to rule Orzammar would have to be strong.  
But the star of their eyes was the city itself. Carved from the living rock of the mountain and below, it was a masterpiece of engineering. “I see why the dwarves command such a high price for their building skills. This is magnificent!” exclaimed Alistair as he looked up at the vaulted ceilings and arches. The heat was nearly unbearable as the river of nearby lava was unbelievably hot, forcing all the companions to loosen their collars and gulp water to stay cool.  
Alistair spoke with a guard who directed them to the Assembly building in the Diamond Quarter and suggested they go to the Shaperate if they wished to find out more about dwarven culture. They found it soon enough, as they simply had to follow the hollering; as it got louder, they found what they sought. Alistair suggested that he and Rosalyn go in alone as it was the Wardens that were seeking the audience. The rest would remain outside. Wynne and Leliana volunteered to seek shelter and supplies as their water supply was dwindling quickly in the heat. Once squared away, they entered the Assembly building to ask for an audience.  
The guards at the main doors pointed them in the direction of the Assembly steward who was standing outside a set of large doors arguing with a man who appeared to be a noble of some house. They waited patiently and he soon turned to them, “Stone-forsaken fools and dusters…I’m sorry. This is the Assembly of the Clans. Only deshyrs and the occasional guests of state are allowed in.”  
“We are Grey Wardens who seek an audience with the Assembly,” Rosalyn announced.  
“Forgive me Wardens, but exhaustion has gotten the best of me. I had forgotten about the message from the courtyard. Welcome to Orzammar. I hope you can forgive our unrest. The loss of our king has hit us hard.”  
“Of course, friend,” said Alistair. “We are familiar with the feeling ourselves.”  
The steward nodded, “So I have heard and you have the condolences of our people, Warden, as well as the deepest respect for your role. Unfortunately you will not receive a proper hearing until we have a king on our throne. You would have to be royalty yourself to get in there now.”  
“A blight is coming, Steward. Is there nothing you can do to help us?” asked Rosalyn.  
“A troubling thing indeed but it will still seem distant compared to the empty throne. The Assembly is blind to all else.”  
“So the city does not care that the world is about to end?” she replied angrily.  
He shook his head at her sadly, “This is their world, and it ended when Endrin died.”  
Rosalyn made to say something else, but Alistair stepped up, “Is there any way to break the stalemate?” he asked.  
“I must admit, Warden. I am at a loss myself. It lies with Prince Bhelen and Lord Harrowmont and they are slow to trust anyone in the uncertain times. I only wish there was more I could do for you.”  
“Thank you Steward. You have been very helpful. Good day to you, ser,” Alistair lowered his head in respect and took Rosalyn’s arm as he walked to an alcove where some chairs had been set. “What are you trying to do?” he asked her.  
“I was trying to get information. What were you doing dancing about with words?” she answered, her anger still evident.  
“I’m trying to get answers too, but you don’t get them at the point of a sword here, Lyn. These are politicians, not smugglers. They won’t respond to force, but they will respond to words; the ‘right’ words.”  
“And you are saying that I don’t have the ‘right’ words?”  
He looked up at the ceiling, so close above his head and sighed. “Right now, yes, I’m saying you don’t have the right words. We have to tread lightly here, love, no matter that we think they are fools. We must never let them know we think that. I am sorry.”  
Rosalyn sat down on the small chair. She was still angry but knew when she was out of her league. “What do we do now? We need to get in there.”  
Alistair ran his hand through his hair, thinking quickly. He turned and looked over at the steward as he argued with yet another nobleman. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a small pouch along with some other things. A patch of white caught Rosalyn’s eye.  
“What have you got there?” She reached over and pulled the white cotton from his hands and he groaned slightly, “These are mine! Do you mean to tell me you had my smallclothes all the time? My best pair!”  
“Uhhhh…yes? I…kept them. I wanted a keepsake so I took them. Sorry.”  
“You kept them?”  
“They reminded me of you and that night at the Keep. It was the best night of my life and I wanted to remember it always. I guess it’s silly,” he explained.  
Rosalyn looked at him with a look of complete surprise. She had never seen him like this before. “I guess I never will know what to think around you.”  
He smiled down at her, “I did tell you not to, didn’t I?”  
“You did. Keep them but you are buying me some new ones. Pink ones, please.” His eyebrows rose and his eyes grew big as he thought of her in pink smallclothes. She handed them back to him with a knowing smile and he stuffed them back in his pocket. “What’s in the pouch?”  
“It’s our key to the Assembly Hall, but I don’t think either of us is going to like it,” he answered.  
“Why not?”  
“Because I will have to be someone I don’t want to be to do it.” He opened the pouch and took out a large ring and put it on his right hand. Rosalyn took his hand and looked at the ring.  
“You aren’t seriously considering this,” she warned.  
“I am what I am, love. Time to own up to it; I can deny it later.” He squeezed her hand and walked back to the steward at the main doors. “Ser, I have come to request entrance into the Assembly for the purpose of asking for troops to fight the coming Blight.”  
“And I told you before, Warden. I cannot grant you entrance at this time,” he said.  
“Tell them Prince Alistair Theirin of Ferelden requests the audience.” He held out his hand, the royal seal gleaming brightly on his finger.  
“Prince…of course, your highness. Please forgive my ignorance of your identity. If you will follow me.” He led them to the doors and opened them, allowing them entrance. They had their way in.

@@@@@

“Your mind has gone to dust if you think we would pass such a writ, half our houses would go broke without the surface trade!” yelled one deshyr.  
“The proposal is only effective until we have a king to ensure we are respected by the surfacers,” explained another deshyr.  
“Leaving you conveniently positioned to take over all contracts. I’ll see your head on a pike first!” shrieked another.  
The steward escorted them to the place of observation, and then took his place on the floor, holding up his hands to regain the peace. “Deshyrs, lords and ladies of the Assembly; I’ve already doubled the guard to prevent violence. Must I summon more?”  
A fourth deshyr stepped forward to address the Assembly, “Steward Bandelor, Bhelan’s sympathizers are tying our hands with trivialities! They may as well open us to the sky!”  
“I suggest we put the matter to a vote,” offered a female noble.  
The fourth deshyr was incensed, “And I suggest you have a taste of my family’s mace…”  
“Enough!” yelled the steward. “The Assemble is in recess until the members can regain control of their emotions!” He turned and walked to the exit doors, nodding at the guards stationed there as he passed. The guards came down to the floor and drew their weapons, discouraging any more outbursts.  
Rosalyn looked up at Alistair, “Now what?”  
“I have no idea. It’s clear this isn’t the way to go. Any suggestions?” he asked.  
She thought a bit, then looked over to the men she now knew were Lord Harrowmont and Prince Bhelen. Both men were deep in conversation with men that she could tell were their right hands, no doubt in charge of their personal affairs. Her mind worked fast and she formed a plan. “In the Alienage, when you can’t get the rat to come to you, you go to his nest. Who are those men they are talking to?”  
Alistair looked down at her and smiled an evil smile, “I get so excited when you talk like that. Let’s go find out.” She followed him out of the hall to the steward, who told them the man with Prince Bhelen was Vartag Gavorn, his right hand. Harrowmont’s man was Dulin Forender, a close friend and ally. Both men were indispensable to their masters and access to the candidates would have to be granted by them.  
“Would you be so kind as to tell them that the Grey Wardens desire an audience with their masters?” Rosalyn asked him sweetly. “And where can we find lodging for ourselves and our companions?”  
The steward motioned an assistant to him. “I will deliver the messages myself, my lady.” To Alistair he said, “Accommodations have already been arranged for you and your companions, your highness. My assistant will escort you.” Alistair thanked the man again and they followed the assistant out and down the row of fancy homes to a small house near the gate. A young dwarven servant showed them their rooms and made sure they were lacking nothing.  
Alistair sat on the bed and pulled Rosalyn down with him, his arms coming around her as he kissed her. “Mmmm…I do like the accommodations. This is a huge bed. Want to test it?”  
“Yes, I do. But there is work to do and….,” She pulled away from him, wincing, her eyes full of stress and fear. “Alistair, I don’t like it here. It feels…cramped; like the walls are pressing in on me.” She sat up and put her head in her hands, crying, “I can hear them singing. It’s…deafening!”  
He sat up and pulled her back into his arms, stroking her hair and kissing her tenderly. “I know. I feel it too; a thousand voices in my head all trying to be heard at once. Do you remember the Templar meditation techniques I showed you? Try them, they work for me.”  
Rosalyn nodded and bent to remove her boots. She pulled her legs up and crossed them, placing her hands in her lap. Closing her eyes, she began to breathe deeply and slowly, concentrating on centering herself, imagining she was floating in a warm pool of water. Gradually her body became aware of only the sound of the water lapping against the bank and the soft waves as they flicked over her body as she floated. The brush of a soft current slowly rolled down her spine and she sighed as the feeling began to center in her lower extremities. The soft flicks of the water tickled her thighs and her breath began to catch in anticipation of the next wave. Awareness set in and she opened her eyes and looked down to find Alistair’s hands massaging her intimately. “Alistair, you are taking advantage of me,” she purred, relaxed and content, the Darkspawn at bay.  
“So I am. Any complaints?” he asked.  
“No. Just checking. Do continue.”  
“Your desire is my command.”

@@@@@

It was dark in the cave.  
She found herself standing on a pedestal, surrounded by flames, burning her skin and her hair. She looked down to see Alistair, chained and bound, Darkspawn creatures surrounding him. He called her name and begged for her help. She stepped out of the fire and came to him, touching his face as he pleaded with her to save him. The touch of her fingers burned his skin and she smiled as he cried out in pain. Rosalyn continued to touch him and run her hands over his body until he burst into flames, screaming her name in agony. She began to laugh, enjoying the feeling and power that she had over him. It was ecstasy; overwhelming, addictive and infinitely desirable.  
Rosalyn awoke with a jerk and opened her eyes, looking over at Alistair, peacefully snoring next to her. Sweat covered her body and she remembered why, thankful it was a dream. Easing herself out of bed, she walked to the small inset window in the room and looked out at the city, hugging herself. The rivers of lava flowed smoothly and hot, providing not only heat but light for the inhabitants. There was no way to tell what time it was as there was no sun to steer by. The dwarven inhabitants scurried about their work, oblivious of what time of day it truly was. She shivered, not from cold but from emotion, her body wound tight as a coiled spring.  
Two arms came around her as she stared out the window, strong arms and sure. They pulled her back against warm skin, holding her close. She leaned her head back and sighed, relaxing some of the tension. “Want to tell me about it?” Alistair asked.  
She shook her head. “The same ones we always have; torture, fire and pain. They seem stronger now and more upsetting.”  
“Mine too. The closer the Archdemon gets, the worse they seem to be. They are more disturbing each time.” He turned her in his arms and pulled her close, burying his face in her hair. “I’m starting to understand it.”  
Rosalyn wrapped her arms around his waist and held him, “It’s just a dream, love. It’s not like when we went back to Ostagar. We won’t hurt each other no matter how much they try to get us to.”  
“I know but it doesn’t mean it doesn’t affect me.” She pulled back and took his right hand in hers, running her fingers over the back and down to his fingertips, massaging his fingers one by one. He sighed and closed his eyes, “That feels…so good. Where did you learn that?”  
“It’s a little something of Zevran’s.” Alistair’s eyes popped open and he looked down at her, his temper flaring. She laughed as she watched the jealousy pass over him, settling in his eyes and becoming an icy blue. “Relax. I learned it from Leliana. I do like that look though. Forgot all about what we were talking about, didn’t you?”  
“And you say I’m evil.”  
Rosalyn smiled again and looked down at his hand, the huge seal of the royal house shining on it. “So where did this come from?”  
“It’s mine. My father sent it to me on my sixteenth nameday when I was in the monastery. It was the same day that Eamon told me who I was. I refused to wear it since it never meant anything to me. The only reason I carry it is because it was Maric’s and he was my father.”  
“So it means nothing else?” she asked warily.  
“It’s a reminder of the man who fathered me, that’s all. I still don’t want to be king.”  
“So it’s like this is for me.” She held up her left hand and showed him Nelaros’ ring, shining on her hand. “It was supposed to be my wedding ring. Nelaros made it himself from silver and gold scraps in his father’s shop. It reminds me of why I’m here with you and not standing on the gallows or rotting in some prison.”  
He looked down at the ring then pulled her back into his embrace. “It’s beautiful, like you. Someday, when we are at the Maker’s side, I will find him and thank him for all he did for you. It is because of him I found you.”  
“He’d like that and you.”  
A knock at the door disturbed their reverie. Alistair slipped on his breeches as Rosalyn jumped back into the bed and covered up. He opened the door to reveal the servant in charge of their comfort.  
“Begging your pardon, your highness. You have received urgent messages from the houses of Lord Harrowmont and Prince Bhelen.” He handed the missives to Alistair and bowed. “They desire immediate replies and the messengers are waiting.”  
“Thank you. Would you wait outside while I pen them?” Alistair replied. The servant nodded and withdrew, shutting the door behind him. “Which one do you want?” he asked holding them up to her. Their importance had just become greater.

The Houses of Aeducan and Harrowmont

Rosalyn chose Bhelen first so they cleaned up and dressed in their best, taking Zevran and Wynne along for show. Alistair trusted Zevran to tell them if it was a trap and be able to explain the role of the Dalish in the conflict. Wynne, as a senior member of the Circle of Magi, would be able to vouch for the Circle’s role. Alistair thought that both sets of allies would strengthen their claim. They couldn’t afford to appear weak.  
Bhelen sent an escort to bring them to the Assembly Hall where they were introduced to Vartag Gavorn, his right hand man. He was a dark haired man with a hard look and smelled of ale. “Welcome Wardens. It is always a blessing for Orzammar to host your order. I am Vartag Gavorn, top advisor to our good Prince Bhelen. What news do you bring?”  
“I am Alistair…” he cleared his throat, “uhhhh…Prince of Ferelden and Grey Warden. This is my advisor and companion, Warden Rosalyn; Senior Mage Wynne from the Circle of Magi and Zevran, a representative of the sovereign Dalish Elves. We are here to ask for aid against the Blight.”  
Zevran leaned in to Rosalyn and whispered, “But I’m not a representative of the Dalish.”  
“He knows that. The only truth in that statement was our names and the fact that we’re Wardens and Wynne is a mage. Play along,” she whispered back. Zevran shrugged and nodded.  
Vartag bowed his head to them in greeting, “Yes, I have seen the treaty in the Shaperate. Of course you realize that that treaty only compels our king and we currently do not have one.”  
“Ser, battling the Blight is more important than politics!” pleaded Rosalyn, losing her temper with his pompous attitude.  
The dwarf looked up at her and shook his head. “No one wishes this fight over more than Bhelen. But while it continues Orzammar can spare no one to combat a Blight, real or imagined.”  
“I swear to you, ser, there is a Blight happening,” Alistair said solemnly.  
“I believe you, your highness. But what are we to do? If my prince followed his heart and sent troops, Harrowmont would steal the throne and we would return to our home to find it devastated by an incompetent tyrant.”  
Rosalyn stepped forward and looked down on Vartag, “And if you don’t fight, your homeland gets destroyed anyway.” Alistair put his hand on her arm and she nodded, stepping back.  
Vartag turned and paced back and forth for a few moments then looked back up at them. “If you could perhaps…prove your loyalty and show you owe Harrowmont no fealty, Bhelen might be able to help you. Harrowmont has engaged in a campaign of bribery and coercion to ensure that every house serves him. But if you as a neutral party were to approach certain key members with evidence of double dealing…”  
“Evidence that I suppose you have?” added a disgusted Wynne.  
Vartag continued without missing a beat, “…my lord prince would show his gratitude.”  
“What kind of evidence?” asked a wary Alistair.  
“Harrowmont has promised the same tract of property to two different families in return for favor. Here are copies of the promissory notes. If the deshyrs saw these, they would reconsider their stand.”  
Alistair thought deeply for a moment before replying, “We will have to think on this.”  
“I understand, but don’t think too long. The offer is limited.” Vartag bowed and excused himself, leaving them standing.  
“Well, that was….slimy to say the least. Do you believe any of it?” Wynne asked them.  
Alistair shook his head, “I don’t know. He seems a little off. I don’t like it. He isn’t being honest. What do you think, Lyn?”  
“He’s no more trustworthy than any smuggler I’ve ever met, including me. I must admit that while I don’t approve of all the intrigue, I do think him strong enough to give us what we need,” she answered.  
“And the fact that he’s lying means nothing.”  
“He isn’t the first to pretend to be something he isn’t, Alistair.” She reached down and pulled up his right hand, showing him his ring. “Nor will he be the last. I am merely saying that he seems able to give us what we need.”  
“I still don’t like it.” He started for the door, “And I am a prince, I just don’t want to be.”  
Rosalyn smiled as she followed him, “Of course you don’t, love.”

@@@@@

By the time that Rosalyn had caught up with Alistair he was outside in the street, talking to a man wearing a badge that marked him as a member of Lord Harrowmont’s staff. Alistair nodded to the man and turned to the others, “Ready for the next round?”  
“Lead on my prince,” she said.  
“Stop that.”  
“You love it.”  
He sighed and nodded, making her laugh. She took his hand and they followed their escort down the street to a modest but large house and were led into a courtyard next to the house. In the courtyard, there stood a middle-aged man with a kind but severe look. “I had heard there were Grey Wardens here. I am Dulin Forender, second to Lord Harrowmont, King Endrin’s own choice as successor. Word is spreading that the Blight is upon us. It is shameful that we are not in a better position to help.”  
“Greetings ser. I am Alistair, Prince of Ferelden. This is my companion, Warden Rosalyn; Wynne from the Circle of Magi, and Zevran, a representative of the Dalish Elves. I have a treaty obliging Orzammar to aid against the Blight.”  
Dulin shook his head sadly, “That is a terrible risk for the surface. But even if the world will end tomorrow, Lord Harrowmont cannot ignore Bhelen today. He cannot trust anyone of ‘unproven’ loyalties.”  
“So you want us to denounce Bhelen publically?” asked Rosalyn.  
“If you wish to show you have no loyalty to Bhelen, you must work against him in Harrowmont’s name. Bhelen is hosting a Proving match in his father’s memory. The deshyrs take it very seriously. Unfortunately, Bhelen has found a way to blackmail or intimidate House Harrowmont’s best fighters into withdrawing.”  
Alistair looked down and Rosalyn who shrugged, “Do you want us to find out why your fighters dropped out?”  
Dulin nodded his agreement, “That would be…enlightening, though I hope you won’t pry too deeply into things they don’t wish revealed. Enter the Proving as Lord Harrowmont’s champion; your order’s reputation will insure the ancestors will favor you. Bhelen would never work with anyone who humiliated him in that way and my lord will not fear to meet with you then.”  
“May we have some time to think on this?”  
“Yes, but not long as the Proving will begin tomorrow morning. I will wait for you at Tapster’s Tavern in the Commons. Meet me there after the tournament. Good day, your highness.” Dulin bowed and returned to the house by a side door. The escort led them out of the courtyard and into the street where they took their leave.  
Rosalyn looked at Alistair, “So what about that?”  
“I don’t know. He seems a straight-forward man. He’s telling the truth. We fight for him and he trusts us. You don’t think so?” he asked.  
“He seems a little backward to me; stuck in the past. From what I’ve seen and what Bodahn’s told me, Orzammar is hopelessly mired in the past and needs desperately to change. They are stagnating.”  
“There’s nothing wrong with sticking to what works, Lyn. It’s served us well enough.”  
“And look where Ferelden is now? A kingdom without a king, engaged in civil war and a blight threatening; sounds like something isn’t working.”  
Alistair looked at Zevran and Wynne who were following. “Do you mind excusing us? We’ll be along shortly.”  
“Of course, Alistair. I’ll tell the servant to prepare some dinner for you both,” replied Wynne. “Zevran?”  
“I am your loyal servant, my darling Wynne,” he bowed and offered his arm. Wynne narrowed her eyes at him but took his arm as he led her down the street.  
They waited until their companions were out of earshot to continue. “This isn’t about Ferelden.”  
“No it’s about the world, Alistair! A world the dwarves belong to but won’t accept. They live in the past down here and it must change! I think Bhelen is the one to do it.”  
“I agree that things need to change, but is making such a drastic change at this point necessary?”  
Rosalyn walked to the railing at the edge of the street and looked down on the city below. “Yes, it is. Moving backward will only cause more problems in the long run. This is a chance to help these people. You’ve seen the casteless here. You would deny them a chance to have a say?”  
“This isn’t about the Alienage either, love. We can’t afford to take a chance on an unproven leader who is at the very least untrustworthy. You know that!”  
“You asked for my opinion and I gave it. I choose Bhelen.”  
“And I choose Harrowmont.”  
Rosalyn turned back and looked down at what she knew was Dust Town, the dwarves version of an alienage. “I said my piece,” she said quietly. When she turned back, he was gone.

@@@@@

When Rosalyn reached the house where they were staying, she found that Alistair had come back, changed his clothes quickly and left with Leliana and Soris. “He said they would be returning late, my dear. I am sorry,” Wynne told her. “Come and eat, the meal is excellent.”  
“I’m not really hungry, Wynne. Thank you.” She headed for the room she shared with Alistair and opened the door. His pack was where he had left it and his armor was strung about on the floor where he had dropped it in a hurry. She took it as a good sign that he hadn’t moved out but he was still upset with her. Wandering the room, she picked up his armor and left it at the door for the servant to clean and removed her own and placed it with his. Rosalyn sat down on the bed, her mind reeling. Bhelen may be untrustworthy but he was interested in making things better not keeping them the same. Years of alienage life had taught her that the status quo was wrong. She had to do something.  
The stifling atmosphere of the room and the constant humming in the back of her head from the Darkspawn made her restless. She was pacing the floor furiously, trying to find a way out of her predicament when there was a knock at the door. “Come in,” she called.  
“I thought you might have changed your mind about dinner,” Wynne said. She laid a tray on the table and bent down to pick up one of Alistair’s shirts from the floor. “This is one of the ones Leliana made him. That man! You think being a Templar would have taught him better habits.”  
“I think it’s his way of rebelling. Soris is like that too.” Rosalyn took the shirt and folded it neatly, laying it on the dresser. She turned to Wynne and the light came on. “Wynne? Where would be the best place to get information in this town? The kind you won’t hear in the Assembly Hall.”  
Wynne bent down and picked up a pair of breeches and folded them as she thought. “That’s not really my forte but I think I know who would.” She placed the breeches on the dresser and walked to the door and opened it. “Zevran? Come here, please.”  
Zevran entered with more than his usual swagger, delighted at being called. “What is it my lovelies? Lonely, are we?”  
“Where’s the best place to find information in this town? The kind you won’t hear in the open,” she asked him.  
“Oh, are we interested in doing some spying? Let’s see…what do dwarves enjoy most? Ahhh! I have it! Change your clothes, my dears. We are going out. I suggest daggers only, hidden well and sharp. Money is also good. I’ll be back to get you.” With that he trotted out the door, already unbuckling his breast plate and calling for the servant.  
Twenty minutes later he was back, dressed in ordinary street clothes, his daggers on his hips. Rosalyn had donned the brown dress with the gold sash that Alistair had given her, her daggers tucked into the sash and strapped to her thigh. Wynne was behind him in a plain blue dress, a dagger tucked into her belt. Behind her was Sten in plain brown breeches and white shirt, his sword on his back, looking very out of place.  
“Sten has decided to accompany us,” Wynne announced.  
“This place where we are going could be dangerous. I cannot let the saarebas travel there unprotected,” he said. Rosalyn smiled at Wynne and laughed as the mage rolled her eyes.  
Zevran offered his arm and said, “Shall we go ladies?” Rosalyn took his arm and nodded and he led them out of the house and into the street. They walked through the gate and entered the Commons, passing several shops and stalls before turning onto a side street. Three streets down, they stood in front of a noisy tavern.  
“We’re going in there?” asked Wynne, surprised. “It’s filthy!”  
“And just the place you asked for. Come now, the nobles will never tell you what you want to know, but their servants and workers will. They will be here,” answered Zevran.  
“Let’s go,” said Rosalyn as she entered the tavern. Inside was a loud, raucous bunch who was delighted to see them. Word of their presence in the city had reached them and they found themselves inundated by several patrons who were all eager to meet them and hear of the outside world. “Spread out and find out everything you can about Harrowmont and Bhelen,” Rosalyn ordered. They nodded and split up, Wynne and Sten joined a group of women who were sitting in the corner while Rosalyn and Zevran joined a rowdy group at the bar.  
Three hours and several ales later, Rosalyn had what she wanted and bade them all leave. As they walked back to the Diamond Quarter, Wynne asked, “So it was a success? You found out what you wanted to know?”  
“And some things I didn’t. But at least I know who I’m backing now. How much time do I have?” she asked.  
Zevran thought a moment, “Twelve hours. You should get some rest; you will need it, my dear.”  
“The elf is right, Kadan. You will need to sleep,” agreed Sten.  
Rosalyn nodded. “I will, but I have something I need to do first.” She entered the house and went to her room. Alistair was still not home but their armor was cleaned and polished and sitting on the floor where she had left it. Stripping out of her dress, she donned her breeches and shirt and armor. Grabbing her daggers and sword, she left the room; she had a lot to do before morning.

@@@@@

Alistair returned home two hours later, cranky, tired and a little tipsy. He, Leliana, and Soris had spent the evening at Tapster’s Tavern in the Commons, talking to the nobility and their seconds and finding out nothing. It had been a wasted trip and he was going to have a hangover in the morning. On top of all that, he still hadn’t made peace with Rosalyn so he wasn’t sure he even had a place to sleep. It was going to be a miserable night, he knew.  
He staggered up the steps of the house behind Soris and Leliana when he heard some strange sounds coming from the courtyard at the back of the house. Alistair came down the stairs and drew his dagger from his boot, keeping to the shadows as Rosalyn had taught him. He reached the corner of the house and found what was causing the noise.  
Rosalyn was working on her fighting footwork, sword and dagger drawn, making her way back and forth across the courtyard. She would get to one side and stop, take a deep breath and begin again, starting slowly and building speed as she went. By the time she reached the other side, Alistair could hardly keep up with her, she was moving so quickly. He reached out with his senses and felt frustration and disappointment but also determination. As she reached the end of her dance, she stopped and sheathed her weapons as he stepped out of the shadows.  
“You are missing that sixth step; it’s what’s throwing you off,” he said as he approached her. He was dressed in the brown breeches and blue coat he’d worn on their picnic at Redcliffe a lifetime before. Rosalyn thought him the handsomest man she had ever seen then and he was no less now. “It’s late.”  
“I needed to practice if I’m going to fight in the Proving tomorrow,” she told him.  
Alistair blinked twice, not sure he’d heard correctly. “You’re going to…what?”  
Rosalyn took off her gloves and stuffed them into her belt. Reaching into the pouch on her belt, she pulled out the documents given to her by Vartag. “They’re forged. Harrowmont promised property to Lord Dace and Lady Helmi but it was different property. These show it’s the same. He’s lying to us, Alistair.”  
“How did you know?”  
“Zevran took Wynne, Sten and I to a tavern in the Commons where many of the nobility’s servants go to drink. I met the forger; a very obliging man. He also told me several other things too. Bhelen is responsible for the death of his older brother Trian, Endrin’s heir. He set up his younger sister, making it look like she killed Trian. Endrin had to banish his own daughter to the Deep Roads to die as punishment. It killed him in the end when he found out about Bhelen’s involvement. That’s when he told Harrowmont that he wanted him to be his successor not Bhelen. You were right.”  
Alistair looked down at the documents then back at her, “So what now?”  
“Dulin says I need a second. Are you up for a fight in the morning? We get to bust some dwarven heads.”  
“And here you thought you never knew what to think about me; seems I can say the same about you.”  
Rosalyn smiled, “So don’t think. Will you fight with me?”  
He took the documents and tore them in half. “Let’s kick some dwarven ass!”  
“You always know what to say to a girl.” He laughed as his hand came up to brush the hair away from her face. “Take me to bed,” she said.  
“Yes ma’am,” he replied, swooping her up in his arms and heading for the door to the house.  
“Alistair?”  
“Hmmm?”  
“I love you.” 

The Proving

The servant woke them early as they needed time to scout the competition and find out why Harrowmont’s men were withdrawing. Alistair rolled over and pulled Rosalyn closer, unwilling to lose even a second of time with her. He kissed her ear, running his tongue along the edge until she shivered in his arms. “You know that makes me crazy when you do that,” she complained.  
“Which is the exact reason why I do it,” he replied, proceeding to repeat the offending act.  
Rosalyn turned in his arms and took his mouth in hers, kissing him fully and soundly before withdrawing. “We need to get up you know. There are battles to fight and the Blight to stop.”  
“There will always be battles, love. There won’t always be time for this…” He pulled her on top of him so she straddled his hips. She rubbed against him, feeling him harden under her and gasping with want. She guided him into her and rode him, rocking back and forth until they peaked, crying out their pleasure. A second knock brought them back to reality.  
“Alistair? Rosalyn? It nearly time to go. Get moving you two!” Leliana’s voice held a touch of humor as she called to them through the door. “Sten will have all the breakfast eaten if you don’t get out here soon.”  
“Damn! I’m hungry now. Time to go, love.” He pulled her down for another kiss, “Win today and you shall reap the rewards.”  
“What rewards? All I get if I win is the title Champion and an audience with Harrowmont. What else is there?” she asked as she climbed out of bed.  
Alistair laughed, “You’ll see.”  
“Now you sound like Duncan.”  
He cocked his head at her, “Really?”  
“Yes. He said that to me when I would ask questions about the Wardens and what I would be doing once I joined.”  
“Funny. He said that to me a lot too. I think it was his favorite expression.” He reached for his breeches and smallclothes. “I haven’t thought of him for a while; seems like I should.”  
Rosalyn stood up and faced him, standing between his legs as she looked down on him. “I haven’t thought of him much either. Not since we found the Dalish.”  
“It seems almost wrong sometimes; like I took something of his that I won’t give back.”  
“Do you mean me?”  
“Yes. I know it’s not wrong though. You said yourself that you knew it would end between you. How did you know that?”  
She bent to pick up her shirt from the floor and slipped it over her head. “It was his nightmares. He would wake up in the middle of the night calling out to the Maker to take him. At first I thought it was just the dreams but I heard him say it when he was awake too. He was praying for death to come quickly. That’s when I knew. Later, he told me that I was chosen because I was destined for greatness. He said I ‘would meet the one who would lead me to the end.’ I didn’t understand then but I think he was talking about you.”  
“Me?”  
“He knew we would be together. At least I think he did. It wasn’t until we were at Warden’s Peak that I realized that’s what he meant. Avernus asked me if I was prepared for what would come. I said I didn’t know what would come so I didn’t know how to prepare for it. He laughed and said. ‘Then you are prepared. He is a good man.’ It was then that I knew he meant you, so here I am.”  
“No regrets then?”  
“Never with you,” she replied.  
“Nor do I. I love you, Lyn; it seems I don’t tell you enough.”  
Rosalyn bent down to kiss him, “Yes, you do. I always know.”  
They dressed quickly and gathered their weapons. Alistair decided to fight with his father’s sword as he thought the dragonbone would be recognized and add some credibility to their cause. “They know a good piece of metal when they see it.”  
For Rosalyn he suggested fighting with swords as the bouts would be hand to hand. She took Duncan’s sword, kissing the blade before she sheathed it, making Alistair smile. She selected her Grey Warden issue dagger that she had chosen that day at the Warden compound so long ago as her off-hand weapon and sheathed it. Alistair checked her armor and adjusted what was loose and she returned the favor.  
“Ready?” he asked.  
“I guess so,” was her answer.  
“For Duncan,” he said as he placed his fist on his heart in salute.  
Rosalyn placed her fist on her heart and looked up at him, “For you.”

@@@@@

The Proving was held in a huge arena that was located in the Commons. Alistair brought Zevran and Sten with them as they were allowed to bring up to two seconds. As Harrowmont’s champion, they would receive many challenges, some from teams, so extra fighters were needed. “Sten is powerful in any battle and since Zevran is a rogue, he can work the outside. As Wardens, you and I will be the main targets. Wynne will stand by for healing if we need it.”  
“Sounds like you know too much about this,” Rosalyn said as they crossed the causeway bridge to the arena.  
“I didn’t find out much about Bhelen or Harrowmont, but the Provings they are always willing to talk about. It’s a point of honor.” He stopped her with his hand. “You realize that what we’re doing is absolutely crazy.”  
“Sounds like what we do best, don’t you think?”  
He smiled, “perhaps, but I would rather keep you in one piece, not several. They aren’t supposed to kill us, but that doesn’t mean they won’t try, love.”  
“And this differs from our everyday routine how?”  
“It doesn’t. It’s just that we have a choice this time. Are you sure? I can do this for you.”  
Rosalyn put her hand on his as it rested on her arm. “I think this time it has to be me. I can’t explain it. I’ll be careful. Morrigan and Wynne will enchant my weapons to give me extra strength and you will be there too. This will work.”  
“Then let’s get this over with so I can go back to our room and have a nervous breakdown,” he said sarcastically. They walked through the huge doors and entered the arena hall, finding all eyes upon them as they searched the crowd. “Let’s find Harrowmont’s fighters first. Dulin said their names were Baizyl and Gwiddon. They should be found in the preparation area.” Alistair stopped a servant and asked where they would be found as well as where they needed to go to sign up.  
Baizyl was standing in the entry hall talking to some other warriors when they approached. He was young, with dark hair and a worried look. “You are Baizyl? I was sent to speak with you,” announced Rosalyn.  
“I told them I wasn’t going to fight and I’m telling you the same thing,” he told them. “Now go away and leave me alone.”  
Rosalyn sensed that there was something else wrong. She looked at Alistair and he nodded his agreement. “What is the trouble? Perhaps I can help.”  
Baizyl’s eyes grew wide as he considered her question. “It’s nothing…a personal matter. There is nothing you can do.”  
“I don’t know about that. Tell me and I’ll let you know.”  
“There’s this girl. We’ve been seeing each other for quite a while. Her parents refused to let us marry and gave her to another. Now Bhelen’s men have some letters I wrote to her and are threatening to use them against us if I don’t withdraw. If this gets out, she’ll be disowned by her family and her husband’s and cast out. I couldn’t live with that, so I withdrew.”  
“Who has the letters?”  
“Myaja, one of Bhelen’s best fighters. They are probably locked in her private room in the preparation area. Can you really help?”  
Rosalyn looked at Alistair who nodded and motioned Leliana over. He whispered in her ear and she replied, “I can do that. Give me a few minutes. Zevran?” She took off quickly, Zevran in tow.  
“She’ll see that the letters are returned to you. Where can we find Gwiddon?” asked Alistair.  
“Through that door, ser. He should be over on the right side, that’s where he usually stands. Ancestors favor you if you can help,” exclaimed Baizyl.  
“You just get ready to fight. I might need your help.” said Rosalyn. They took their leave and entered the preparation area, finding Gwiddon exactly where Baizyl said he would be. “You are Gwiddon?”  
“I am and who’s asking?” he answered angrily.  
“I’m here to ask you why you pulled out of the matches today.”  
“I’m not about to risk my neck on a hopeless cause. I’m not stupid.”  
Rosalyn took a step forward, “Are you sure? Harrowmont isn’t conceding. You’re information is wrong. He’s not backing down.”  
Gwiddon looked skeptical, “Just where did you find this out?”  
“Harrowmont told us himself,” Alistair lied, causing Rosalyn to look up at him in surprise. “He sent us to tell you to get back in there and kick some butt.”  
The dwarf’s eyes narrowed, “Then that’s what I will do, friend. Thanks for clearing this up.” He walked over to a table and began strapping on his armor.  
Rosalyn looked up at Alistair, “You’re such a liar! You know what it does to me when you do things like that, don’t you?”  
“That’s why I do it, love. Save it up for later, you are going to need it,” he said, his voice turning husky. “Shall we go sign up?” He led the way out of the prep area and back to the entry hall. 

@@@@@

They found the Proving master standing at the back of the room. “The matches will begin shortly, there are plenty of seats left in the stands,” he announced. “Or are you here to take part in the matches?” he asked them.  
Rosalyn stepped forward, “I’d like to fight as Lord Harrowmont’s champion.”  
The master’s eyes grew wide as his mouth fell open, “Well…that is a surprise indeed; Grey Wardens taking an interest in our king.” He checked his sheet, “What name should I put down?”  
“I am Rosalyn of the Grey Wardens.”  
His eyes narrowed as he wrapped his head around it all, “Those surface names are so difficult to pronounce. I’ll put you down as ‘Grey Warden.’ There is an opening in the first round. Who will be your second?”  
“Tell them Alistair, Prince of Ferelden, will second her,” Alistair declared.  
“The Prince of….yes your highness!” He inclined his head in respect. ”Are you ready to start?”  
Rosalyn looked up to see Leliana and Zevran approaching. “Give us a minute if you would.”  
The master nodded, “Don’t take too long, the matches start soon.” He turned to the next person in line and left them.  
She looked up at Alistair, “Prince of Ferelden?”  
“I thought we’d better get as much mileage as we can out of the name. I probably won’t get to keep it for much longer,” he explained.  
She leaned in, “It’s still exciting, you know.”  
“Hmmm. Have to remember that later.” He looked over at Leliana, “Got them?”  
“Not a problem. They were just where we thought they’d be,” she said, handing him a pouch. “Although Zevran was no help at all.”  
Zevran looked abashed at her comment, “I was merely talking to the lady. She was interested in getting to know more about elven culture. You would deny her a chance to learn?” Leliana rolled her eyes as she contemplated what that learning experience would entail.  
“Zevran, Wynne and Sten, you are with us, the rest of you find seats. Be careful though. We aren’t going to be as popular as soon as it’s known who we’re working for.” Alistair walked over to Baizyl, who was still standing by the doors of the prep area, looking lost and forlorn. “I believe these belong to you.” He handed him the pouch.  
“Ancestors! These are my letters! How did you…? Never mind, friend. It’s enough to know my love is safe. I owe you a debt I cannot repay,” said Baizyl.  
Rosalyn smiled down at him, “Fight in the matches today and we’ll call it even. Deal?”  
“Deal, my friends. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some heads to bash.” He bowed and left them alone.  
Alistair looked down at Rosalyn, a worried look on his face. “Lyn? Are really you sure about this? I’m more than willing to go in for you as are the others.”  
“I can’t explain it Alistair, but it’s my fight. I’ll be fine; and if I’m not, I trust you’ll take care of anyone who gets too close.”  
He squared his shoulders, resigned to the fact he wasn’t winning this argument, “Count on it, love.”  
“And I expect that reward I was promised when I’m finished.”  
He laughed, “You’ll get it, with change.”  
“Then let’s get this over with.” She went to the Proving master to report, “I’m ready,” she told him.  
“Great! Your first opponent will be the warrior Seweryn. If you and your seconds will meet the floor steward, he will see to your readiness. Good luck!” said the master. The huge double doors behind him opened and the trial had begun.

@@@@@

The floor steward led them to a holding room on the arena floor where they took their seats and waited for their turn. Alistair and Zevran checked Rosalyn’s weapons and armor one last time, making sure she was ready and comfortable. Zevran sparred with her a few minutes to allow her to warm up her muscles and gave her some last minute pointers. “Remember our fights with the ruffians in Denerim? These will be on that level and above. Use every trick you have against them but always save the best for last. Ready?”  
“I think so. Thank you, Zevran,” she told him. “Wish me luck?”  
“Buena suerte, my dear,” Zevran said, placing his hands on her cheeks and kissing her passionately.  
Alistair cleared his throat and stood up, “I said a peck on the cheek!”  
“I was caught up in the moment.”  
“Yeah, right,” replied Alistair as Rosalyn giggled.  
“Warden! It’s time!” yelled the steward.  
Alistair bent his head to Rosalyn’s, “I love you. Win for me.” He kissed her hard and held her close.  
She reached into her shirt and pulled out the rose shaped amulet he had given her in Denerim. “Take care of this for me?” He nodded and took the amulet, kissing it before he tucked it in his pocket.  
Grabbing her shoulders, he turned her to face the door as it opened, whispering, “Please come back to me!” With that he pushed her towards the door.  
Rosalyn walked out to meet Seweryn in the center of the arena. He was a warrior, powerful but slow. She danced around him using the basic footwork her mother had taught her years ago and managed to always stay just a step ahead of him. After several strikes with her sword and dagger, he was down, no match for her speed and quickness.  
The steward proclaimed her the winner and she returned to the holding room. Alistair sat her down as Wynne checked her for injuries. “Not a scratch! Did you even go near him?” she asked, casting a healing spell for good measure.  
“Alistair is harder to beat than he was,” she laughed. “It was fun.”  
“Fun, she says. I’ll remember that next time we spar,” Alistair said. He looked up at the others and nodded. They withdrew, leaving him alone with Rosalyn. “I’m proud of you. Are you sure you’re all right?”  
She laid her head on his shoulder, “I’m fine; ready for another round. Who is next?”  
“Baizyl’s friend Myaja and her second and you have to go against them alone. You can still back out.”  
“That’s why I brought these.” He looked down at her belt and saw a half dozen of her homemade acid and fire bombs; a definite edge for her.  
“You are so sexy when you cheat.”  
Rosalyn laughed. “Let’s hope my opponents don’t think so.” The steward called her back for the next round. “Kiss me and tell me I’m not crazy.”  
“You’re not crazy but I am for letting you do this,” he said. He kissed her and watched her go back out to meet her next foe.  
Myaja and her second Lucjan, attacked her from both sides in the hopes that she wouldn’t be able to avoid both of them. Rosalyn pulled an acid bomb from her belt and tossed it at Lucjan, then concentrated her strikes on Myaja until she was no longer able to strike back and fell to the floor. Lucjan recovered and struck at her with his sword, cutting her right arm, causing her to drop her sword. As he raised his weapon to strike a second time, she spun to the right and stabbed him with her dagger. The blow was a surprise and he dropped his sword arm, allowing her to make a second strike and finish him.  
Rosalyn staggered to the circle in the middle of the arena and took her bows as the master announced her victory. She saw the door to the holding room open and Alistair ran out to her, lifting her in his arms and carrying her to the door. He carried her to the bench and stripped her breast plate and arm guards from her. “Don’t do that! I have to go out again!” she cried, pushing his hands away.  
“Not until I stop this wound, young lady,” Wynne scolded. “Hold her for me Alistair. Keep her still.” Alistair sat down and pulled her back against him, holding her steady as Wynne cast a healing spell and applied salve to the wound and bound it.  
Rosalyn leaned her head back on Alistair’s shoulder and he kissed her cheek. “Stay still, love. It will be fine.”  
When Wynne had finished, she helped Alistair strap on her arm guards and breastplate and had her drink a healing potion. Satisfied she was all right, Wynne joined Sten and Zevran on the other side of the room. “I told them you needed a break after that. You have an hour. Close your eyes and rest, love.”  
She nodded and did as she was told, closing her eyes and laying her head back. Alistair stroked her hair as she relaxed and she knew he was more than worried.

@@@@@

Alistair woke her after an hour and massaged her shoulders and arms to warm her muscles, being careful not to touch her wound. Sten sparred a bit with her, giving her pointers on how to fight her next opponent, a specialist at the two handed sword. She listened to all he said and nodded. Sten leaned down and whispered, “The bombs will work too, Kadan.” She smiled as she noticed the corners of his mouth rise in a slight smile and nodded.  
“I’m ready,” she said. Alistair bent down to kiss her and she was out the door.  
Lady Hanashan was a respected member of the Silent Sisters order of warriors, whose members cut their tongues out in honor the Paragon Astyth the Grey. Rosalyn lowered her head in respect, acknowledging her sacrifice. Lady Hanashan nodded and smiled in answer.  
The master started the battle and the combatants began, Lady Hanashan’s sword swinging in a large arch around her, preventing Rosalyn from getting close. Rosalyn distracted the warrior with one hand, striking out with her dagger as Lady Hanashan lost her balance. By the time she had regained her composure, Rosalyn had struck out another time, nearly disarming the warrior. Lady Hanashan took a step back and dropped her sword, acknowledging Rosalyn’s superior strength. Rosalyn sheathed her weapons and offered her hand to the Silent Sister, thanking her for the match. Lady Hanashan nodded and in the back of her mind, Rosalyn thought she heard her say, “Thank you. Ancestors keep you, Grey Warden.” Rosalyn smiled and said, “You are welcome, friend.” She took her bows, insisting Lady Hanashan take them with her as a sign of respect then retired to the holding room.  
Alistair hugged her when Wynne had finished checking her wound, “That was unbelievable!” he exclaimed, “How did you do that so fast?”  
“She has heard of your order and did not wish to fight us. That is why she stopped. She was acknowledging the superiority of the Grey Wardens. It is a great honor for you, Kadan,” said Sten.  
“By throwing one blow, she keeps her honor then,” replied Alistair. “Let’s hope the next one is as easy. You will need a second, by the way.”  
“Want to bust some heads?” she asked, smiling.  
Alistair laughed, “Of course. We will be evenly matched, a warrior and a rogue against the same. I like the odds; I put two sovereigns on you, you know.”  
“Only two?”  
He leaned in, “It’s Zevran’s money. I took it when we last played cards. He never missed it.”  
“I have totally corrupted you, Chantry boy.”  
He leaned in farther and whispered, “In more ways than one, love.”  
The steward announced they were ready and Rosalyn checked her weapons as Alistair donned his helmet and drew his sword. The Proving master announced their names, putting emphasis on the fact that she was seconded by the Prince of Ferelden. “When this is over, I need to talk to you about that,” she said. He nodded and they walked out into the arena.  
Their opponents were the warrior Wojech and his partner, Velanz, a rogue assassin. The master signaled the start and they were off. Rosalyn took Velanz and Alistair fought Wojech, making the bout evenly matched. As they continued to fight, Rosalyn noticed that Wojech was working on Alistair’s sword arm, causing him to spend more time blocking than thrusting his weapon. She tossed an acid bomb at Velanz and pulled a throwing knife from her boot and threw it at Wojech’s sword arm, burying it in his shoulder. “Thanks, love,” said Alistair as she turned to Velanz, finishing him off with a roundhouse thrust. Alistair used his shield to knock Wojech back and lunged forward with his sword, finishing him off. The Proving crowd went wild as they saw one of their favorites go down. Rosalyn and Alistair took their bows and left the floor.  
Wynne met them at the door and checked them for wounds, casting a healing spell on Rosalyn’s arm to make sure it hadn’t broken open again. Sten helped Alistair with his armor, loosening the breastplate to allow him to staunch a small cut. “You both did well. Your next opponents will be a team of four. May I suggest you allow the two dwarves to fight with you?” said Sten, motioning to Gwiddon and Baizyl, who had joined them in the holding room.  
“We wanted to thank you for your help today, Warden,” said Gwiddon.  
“I owe you a huge debt,” said Baizyl.  
Rosalyn looked at Alistair who shrugged and nodded. “Would you fight this last one with me? It will be three against four, but I welcome your help.”  
“You honor me, Warden,” Baizyl replied, bowing his head. Gwiddon nodded and smiled.  
The steward announced them and they entered the arena. The crowd went wild when they saw Baizyl and Gwiddon with her. Their opponents were also well received; Piotin Aeducan was the cousin of Prince Bhelen and champion of the Provings. His three henchmen were just as skilled as he was and proved difficult to beat. Rosalyn used a fire bomb and knocked one of the henchmen out, disabling another as she began to pound on Piotin with Gwiddon. Baizyl ran to take out a bowman that had taken a place near the outside arena wall. As Piotin began to weaken, she tossed another acid bomb to blind him and Gwiddon finished him off. Baizyl took out the bowman easily and the three of them took their bows. Rosalyn was named champion as the crowd roared, screaming louder when she raised Gwiddon and Baizyl’s hands up with her own.  
Alistair took her in his arms when she entered the holding room, not wanting to let her go long enough for Wynne to check her. Zevran pulled him away and gave her a quick hug and Sten patted her shoulder and smiled. She looked at them all and said, “Never let me do any dueling again!” It was a promise they wouldn’t be able to keep.

The House of Harrowmont

Rosalyn met the companions in the entry hall and there were hugs and congratulations from them all. Even Morrigan had a smile for her, complimenting her use of the bombs. Rosalyn smiled and thanked them all. A messenger was waiting for them as they left the arena, bidding them to follow him to Tapsters Tavern to meet with Dulin Forender. Alistair and Rosalyn followed the man.  
Dulin was in the back of the bar, chatting with some minor lords about the election when they found him. “Congratulations, Champion and many thanks. Lord Harrowmont is ready to meet you at your convenience. If you will follow me, I will introduce you.”  
“I would like a few minutes to clean up if I might. Can we detour to our house?” Rosalyn asked.  
“Of course. I will escort you there myself. Shall we go?”  
Dulin led the way through the Commons and into the Diamond Quarter. He was careful not to speak to anyone and Soris pointed out that he could tell they were being followed as they walked. “My hidden escort,” Dulin said, “I cannot go anywhere without them now.”  
They stopped at the house and went to their rooms to change and clean. Alistair asked Soris and Leliana to dress and accompany them. In their room, Alistair took Rosalyn in his arms as soon as the door was shut; kissing her to reassure himself she was all right. Rosalyn gasped as his hands ran over her. “I can’t believe that is over. I don’t ever want to do that again.”  
“You won’t if I have anything to say about it.” Alistair began unbuckling her chest piece and pulling it off. “I want you so badly it hurts, love.”  
“And we don’t have time,” she complained as she undid the buckles of his breastplate. “Unless it’s really quick?”  
Alistair pulled off his breastplate and threw it down on the floor, loosening the laces of his breeches. “Oh it will be quick, that’s for sure.” He pulled the laces of Rosalyn’s breeches and pulled her shirt over her head, his hands yanking off her breastbands and finding her breasts. He squeezed and pinched the nipples until she moaned and fell back on the bed, quickly pulling off her boots. Once off, she stood up and pulled off her breeches and smallclothes. Alistair pulled down his own breeches and pulled her close, wrapping her legs around him. He thrust against her, entering her quickly, both of them moaning with need. He pumped on her as she pushed against him, building the passion they felt to a peak until they broke against each other, shaking from their climax and collapsing to the bed.  
They held each other as they returned; kissing and touching everywhere they could reach. “Maker! That was fast!” she exclaimed laughing. “But so worth it.”  
“I hope so. I’ve wanted to do that since you finished the last bout. I was so worried about you but you did marvelously! I am the luckiest man today!” he replied, pulling her closer and kissing her. He reached down and pulled up his breeches, then reached into the pocket and pulled out her amulet. “You might want this back, I hope.” He placed it around her neck, kissing her gently when he was through.  
“We need to get out there, though. Dulin is waiting,” she said.  
Alistair nuzzled her neck, “Let him get his own girl.” Rosalyn laughed again and pushed herself off the bed. She searched her pack and found a clean shirt and breeches and put them on, relacing her boots. Alistair changed his shirt and put on his breastplate then helped her with her armor. He kissed her once more, and they went out to join Dulin and meet the elusive Lord Harrowmont.  
Dulin led them to the large house where they had met him before, this time leading them in the front door. A servant greeted them and they were ushered into Harrowmont’s study where he was waiting for them. He was a kind looking man of late middle age with greying golden hair. “I apologize for putting you through this trial but I hope you can understand my reasons for doing so. I am Lord Pyral Harrowmont and I thank you for helping me preserve King Endrin’s throne.”  
Rosalyn bowed her head, “It was necessary, my lord and we do understand. May I present Alistair, Prince of Ferelden and Grey Warden, Sister Leliana, late of the Lothering Chantry and my cousin Soris of the Elven Peoples of Denerim.”  
“It is my honor. Welcome to Orzammar. Your reputations have preceded you and normally I would be honored to present you treaty to the Assembly to ask for their aid but unless I am king, there is no way I can do so. With that said, I must ask a boon of you.”  
“What is this boon, my lord?” asked Alistair.  
“Have you heard of a woman named Jarvia and the criminal carta she runs?”  
Rosalyn and Soris looked at each other, their eyes suddenly wide at the mention of the name. “Go on, my lord, please,” she told him.  
“The Assembly receives pleas every day from the common folk, begging that something be done about her but no has managed. Her base is in Dust Town, the raw edges of the city where no one lives except hardened criminals and the casteless. If you would help me in this, it would show the Assembly that I and not Bhelen have the ability to rule this city.”  
Alistair reached out with his senses to gauge Harrowmont’s mood and found he was telling the truth. He believed that by ridding the city of Jarvia he would show he had enough power and strength to rule. Yet when he spread out those senses to Rosalyn, the emotions he sensed were nothing like what he would have expected. He sensed determination, recognition and anger bordering on rage within her. Soris’ feelings were obviously nearly as strong. He glanced at Leliana but felt nothing from her but a determination to get the job done.  
Rosalyn looked at Soris, who nodded slightly, purpose showing on both their faces, “We’ll deal with Jarvia. Be ready to help against the Blight.”  
Harrowmont nodded his agreement, “Do this and I promise that if I take the throne, I will not stop until the Assembly sends you your troops.” With that he bade them good evening and the servant escorted them to the door.  
In the street, Rosalyn’s demeanor changed. She walked quickly back to the house, her mind racing. Soris was the only one who kept up with her, the same determined look on his face. They entered the house and went straight to Alistair and Rosalyn’s room, shutting the door behind them. Alistair opened the door to find them deep in conversation.  
“We can’t be sure if she is the same one, Roz,” said Soris.  
“Then we will have to find out, won’t we,” Rosalyn replied impatiently.  
Alistair shut the door behind him, “Find out about whom?”  
Rosalyn sighed and sat down on the bed, her head in her hands. “We have to tell him Roz. He has a right to know since he will be helping us,” said Soris. When she didn’t reply he started for her, “We know who Jarvia is, Alistair. We’ve…heard of her.”  
“Heard of her? How? What does a dwarven smuggler from Orzammar have to do with two elves from the Denerim Alienage?”  
Rosalyn stood up and faced him, the anger blazing from her golden eyes, “She killed my mother.”

@@@@@

“How can you be so sure it’s her?” Alistair asked.  
“After she died, several friends of my father made inquiries as to who might have arranged the ambush that killed my mother, Soris’ father and Shianni’s mother that night. The smugglers they were working with thought they were guarding a shipment of rare wines and other luxury goods but the shipment was really lyrium, originally stolen from the carta and scheduled to be sold to the Circle for their use,” Rosalyn told him.  
Soris continued, “When the carta found out that the shipment contained their stolen lyrium, they mounted a rescue effort and attacked the shipment, killing everyone who was accompanying it.”  
“So where does this Jarvia fit into all this?” asked Alistair.  
“Jarvia also worked for the smuggling ring along with my mother. Unbeknownst to them; she was also working for the carta, giving them information about shipments of expensive goods, where they were headed and when. She told the carta about that shipment that night.”  
Alistair shook his head and ran his fingers through his hair, “So Jarvia is responsible for your parents’ deaths?”  
“Yes,” replied Rosalyn. “And she will pay.”  
Alistair began to pace the floor of the bedroom, his mind working fast. Finally he stopped and turned to Soris. “Soris, will you excuse us please?”  
He looked over at Rosalyn who nodded. “I’ll get something to eat. Call me if you need me.” He opened the door and left, shutting it behind him. Alistair paced once or twice more then turned to Rosalyn.  
“You want to go after her then?”  
“Yes. Soris does too. We have a score to settle, Alistair,” she said.  
“And it means nothing that we have a civil war to stop and a blight to fight. That has to mean something too, Lyn.”  
“It does! Soris and I have an opportunity to avenge the death of our parents and get us the help we need. I have thought about that!” She turned to the window and looked out at the city below.  
“Personal revenge cannot take the place of duty Lyn! You know that! We are already treading a thin line with the Wardens by helping Harrowmont like we are. You want us to be judge, jury and executioners too!”  
“This isn’t your fight, Alistair. You don’t have to go. Soris and I can take one of the others with us instead.”  
“No! I will not stand back and wait for you to kill yourself, love. I’ll go with you and watch in person, if you don’t mind. At least then I can try to stop anyone who gets too close.”  
Rosalyn turned and looked up at him. “You would really do that for us?”  
He pulled her into his arms and held her close, “I love you, Lyn and I want you to get the justice you deserve. And Soris is my family now too. So like it or not, I have to help you. We’ll take Leliana with us; I need someone who can keep a cool head about all this and see things as I see them. I’ll send Zevran and Morrigan out to find out more information about this Jarvia and the carta before we go anywhere near them. In the meantime, you will get some rest and eat.” He pulled back and looked down at her, Prince’s orders.” He smiled at the last.  
“You are growing way too fond of that title, you know.”  
He shrugged, “It does help down here though. That’s one thing you can say about the dwarves, they do respect titles, whether real or imagined.”  
“Yours isn’t imagined, Alistair. You are Prince of Ferelden. You just don’t officially accept it. What happens if you become king?”  
“I get to eat all the cheese and drink all the ale I want and make love to you three times a day. It will be good to be king!” He bent down and kissed her. “Lie down and rest. I’ll go get us something to eat and drink and talk to Zevran. Then I’ll come back for that reward I promised.” With that and a wink, he left the room.  
Rosalyn turned back and stared out the window at the city. Even with all the joking, Alistair may not want to be king but he would have to be; she knew. Their time together was short and soon there would be no place for her in his life. Tears welled up in her eyes at the thought; her world had suddenly grown too big to bear.

@@@@@

Zevran and Morrigan returned a few hours later from their scouting trip. Alistair had awaked Rosalyn and they sat on the bed as Zevran and Morrigan told them their findings, “This Jarvia is a wily one. She is holed up in Dust Town. No one was willing to talk to us about her except one woman named Nadezda. She had been injured in the woman’s service and then kicked out to the street when she couldn’t fight anymore.”  
Alistair looked at Rosalyn then back at Zevran, “How do we find them?” he asked.  
“Jarvia has set up shop in the abandoned mining tunnels under the city. They are a web of passages that snake everywhere and there are hundreds of access ways,” Morrigan told them with her usual tone of sarcasm.  
“So how do we get in?” asked Soris.  
Zevran continued, “They all have a special finger bone token that should get us in. We just need to find one of these tokens or fashion our own.”  
“Soris, do you think you could help us there?” asked Rosalyn.  
“If I had the tools and knew what one looked like, I could possibly fashion something that could work. The point is that I don’t know what they look like,” he answered.  
Alistair looked up at Soris, “How can you do that?”  
Rosalyn cleared her throat and Soris nodded, “Soris has…talents too, Alistair. He can fashion keys to most any lock. He’s trained as a jewelry smith but his side work is what paid the bills.”  
“So now my family has not one but two thieves in it?” Alistair commented sarcastically.  
Soris smiled at his comment and looked down at Rosalyn, who was blushing. Alistair had never called them his family in public before. She took his hand and squeezed it, kissing his cheek. “It seems it does,” she replied softly.  
“Huh. Good to know, I guess. What do we do now?”  
Zevran poured a glass of wine from the side table, “Nadezda told me where we can find one of the entrances.” He looked at Soris, “If I show you the doorway, will that be enough for you to be able to fashion a key?”  
Soris began to think, “I’ll need some clay, the soft and molding kind, and some material to fashion the key from. I’d have to look at the lock to see how it works before I know what material to use. And I’ll need some time to make the mold; about fifteen to twenty minutes should be enough.”  
Alistair stood up, “Make it happen cousin. The servant here should be able to help you with your needs. He seems to be able to provide whatever else we need.”  
Soris nodded, winking at Rosalyn as he left with Zevran. Morrigan remained for a moment and then slinked out the door behind them. Rosalyn couldn’t help but notice the look she gave Alistair as she left. If she didn’t know better, it was a look of longing. “Alistair?” she turned to ask him.  
He was deep in thought, standing at the side table, pouring himself a drink. “Hmmm?” he answered absently.  
“Have you noticed anything strange about Morrigan?”  
He laughed at her question, “What’s not strange about Morrigan?”  
“It’s just she….I don’t know. She seems a little different lately. I have to practically force her to give me the time of day. It’s like she’s…resentful of me.”  
He pulled her into his arms and looked down at her. “She’s as strange and annoying as she ever was, love. What brought all this on?”  
Rosalyn put her hands on his chest and played with the griffin embossed on his breastplate. “Well…I can’t help but feel she is jealous.”  
“Jealous? Of you?”  
“Of you and me. It’s almost like she wants you too. I know it’s probably silly given that you can’t stand her and she isn’t exactly hospitable to you. But that’s how it feels. It’s silly, I know.”  
He laughed out loud at the thought. “Morrigan…and me? That’s just…UGH! No way!”  
“I know but it just feels wrong to me somehow. We never did find out why Flemeth sent her with us. Everything that old witch does has a dark purpose and you don’t have to have Warden sense to tell that.”  
“Look, Lyn, there’s never, ever, ever going to be anything between Morrigan and me. I can’t stand her and she hates me. I love you and that’s never going to change, okay? Put all this away and let’s finish our business down here so we can end the Blight and I can take you someplace warm and lose all our clothes.”  
Rosalyn smiled and pulled his head down for a kiss. Yet, in the back of her mind, the doubts were there and she knew this was another detail that had yet to be dealt with.

Dust Town

Soris found a way to make a finger bone token and the next day, Alistair, Rosalyn, Soris and Leliana entered Dust Town in search of the elusive Jarvia. Their way was blocked as soon as they entered the district as they were attacked by several desperate souls who were willing to do whatever they could to get enough money for a meal. The four companions made short work of the thugs and proceeded on to the house where Soris said they had found the lock.  
Soris pulled the token out of his pocket, knelt down, and fit it into the slot, smiling as he heard the creak of the lock opening. “Just like back home, huh Roz?” he asked.  
Rosalyn smiled, “Just like home.”  
Soris stood up and looked down at her, suddenly growing serious. He embraced her and whispered, “I’m ready.”  
“For Mother, Farren and Paiva,” she replied.  
Alistair put his arm around Rosalyn’s shoulder and pulled her close, kissing the tip of her head. His free hand clasped Soris’ shoulder, “Let’s do this.”  
Leliana took the lead, opening the door, her swords drawn. They entered a modest home, dirty and unkempt and proceeded to a doorway set in the back wall. The doorway turned into a tunnel that led farther back into the rock wall, eventually ending at a doorway. Rosalyn and Soris nocked arrows and Alistair pulled his visor down as Leliana opened the door. A group of a half dozen dwarves were clustered on the other side, caught completely off guard at their ambush.  
It took just a few minutes to finish them off and soon they were on their way down another long tunnel with short corridors set into the side every few yards. Each corridor had its own set of carta guards to fight and they found themselves in what seemed to be a never-ending fight to proceed. “Lyn, Soris! Stay back and fire at will!” yelled Alistair as he and Leliana rushed the small group of carta soldiers ahead of them.  
They worked their way through the tunnels sometimes a step at a time. As they moved down the main tunnel they took a wrong turn that put them in the carta dungeon. Leliana gasped at the treatment of the prisoners there. Many had died and their bodies had never been removed, left to rot with their still living cellmates. She shot the jailer as he drew his sword to stop them, the arrow piercing his left eye. Leliana had a look that Rosalyn had never seen, cold and calculating, determined to do what she must to survive. Soris searched the jailer’s body and found the keys to the cells, but only one survivor was left, a man named Leske. “Thank you, friends. I thought I would die down here.”  
“Can you come with us?” Rosalyn asked.  
“I’m too weak to fight but I will get out. Do you have some food and water? I haven’t had any in days.”  
Leliana opened her pack and gave him all her food and handed him her canteen. “Here,” she said as she handed him her spare dagger. “You might need this.”  
“You will find Jarvia down that hallway. She’s guarded by a dozen troops and is no fair swordsman herself. How will I ever repay you?”  
“Go out the way we came,” said Alistair. “The way is clear now.”  
“Thank you. Ancestors be with you friends.” Leske said, as he limped out the door and down the hall.  
“He will be fine, “said Leliana. “I have seen worse. We should rest a bit since no one seems to know we are here.” She went to the wall and slid down until she was sitting. Soris sat down beside her and said something to her. She nodded and he put his arm around her, pulling her head down onto his shoulder. Alistair started to take a spot on the opposite wall when he noticed Rosalyn pacing back and forth in front of the cell where they had found Leske.  
He stopped her with his hand and pulled her into his arms. “Calm down. We’ll find her,” he whispered into her hair.  
“I know. I just feel so wound up, like a spring on a wagon,” she said. “I want this to be over.”  
“So do I. I’m scared for you, love. You have to stay back and let Leliana and I do what we have to do. Shoot all the arrows you want to, but stay back. Can you do that for me?”  
Rosalyn nodded. “But Jarvia belongs to Soris and I, no one else.”  
Alistair nodded. “Come sit and get something to eat and drink. It’s a long fight yet.” She let him lead her to the wall near Soris and Leliana. He slid down and pulled her with him, cradling her in his arms as she rested. Looking up, he saw Soris kiss the top of Leliana’s head and he smiled at him and winked. Soris smiled and nodded.

@@@@@

Two hours later had them up and ready to go. They retraced their steps and followed Leske’s directions until they found a heavy armored door. “Leske says she’ll be in there,” said Leliana. She tried the door and found it locked. “Can either of you pick it?”  
Soris and Rosalyn knelt down and looked at the door. They had neither of them seen a lock like it before. Huge and unwieldy, it had several fail safes that prevented anyone from tampering with it. “I’ve never seen one like it before,” said Soris.  
“If I try to pick it and fail, one of these bars will clamp down and no one will get it open. My guess is that we’ve found her,” replied Rosalyn. “She thinks we can’t get through now, but I have an idea.” She reached into her belt and pulled out a fire bomb and an acid bomb. She had Soris pop the top off each one, careful not to spill any of the liquid. “After the elven ruins, I thought I’d better think of a better way to blow open a door than to count on a mage to do it.”  
Rosalyn inserted a straw into the lock and poured the liquid fire into the lock until it was filled. “Take cover, I don’t know what’s going to happen.” Alistair and Leliana took cover back down the hallway as Soris poured the acid into a puddle on the floor in front of the door. He took a straw and dipped it in the fire liquid until it caught fire while Rosalyn dipped one into the acid mixture until hers flamed. They each put their straws into the opposite liquids and ran for cover, waiting until the straws had burned down to the liquids they touched. There was a huge explosion as the door splintered and shattered, knocking them down.  
“I think we may have used too much, Roz,” Soris said, coughing. He stood up and helped Leliana to her feet while Alistair got up and checked the damage.  
“Maker’s breath! The door is gone! Where did you get that idea?” he asked as he waved smoke out of the way.  
“Dallan taught me how to make the bombs. I remembered how he once said that I should never make the two kinds at the same time as they reacted to each other violently. It was the only thing he ever told me that I bothered remembering,” she explained.  
“Well, I wouldn’t say the only thing, love,” Alistair said sheepishly. Rosalyn smiled and blushed while Soris and Leliana laughed. “Let’s go.” He pulled his helmet down and led the way.  
The door led to a long hallway with another door at the end. Surprisingly it was unlocked. Soris listened at the door and nodded. “They’re there.”  
“Just like before, Leliana and I will go first, you and Soris come in behind. Have your swords ready in case it’s closed in. I don’t want to be hit with an arrow in a melee.”  
Leliana opened the door and Alistair led them in, Rosalyn and Soris following, arrows nocked and ready. Jarvia stood at the end of the room, surrounded by a dozen guards. “So I get to meet the famous Grey Wardens after all. Pity you won’t live long for me to enjoy the privilege.”  
“We’ve killed all your guards,” Rosalyn said, stepping forward with Soris.  
“Elves? Down here? And here I thought I had seen the last of your kind when I took out that last bunch who thought they were so clever with our lyrium. Seems you would like to follow them.”  
“No, but you will. Remember Farren and Adaia and Paiva by chance?” asked Soris angrily.  
“Don’t let her see your anger,” whispered Leliana to Soris.  
“Adaia? She got what was coming to her just like the others. Always thinking they were better than the rest of us, just because they were pretty elves. I’m guessing you’re Farren’s whelp, huh?” Jarvia looked over at Rosalyn, “And you, the spitting image of the bitch that bore you. Killing her was the best thing I ever did and I’ll enjoy killing you too. Take them down, but leave Adaia’s baby for later. I have plans for her.”  
Soris and Rosalyn stepped back and drew their bows, firing at will on the outside guards. One by one they fell or moved in closer to Jarvia. Alistair and Leliana sliced their way through the melee, taking out the tougher warriors. Once they bunched them close enough together, Rosalyn yelled, “Alistair! Leliana! Duck!” Both of them hit the floor as Rosalyn tossed an acid bomb into the group, causing chaos as they choked on the burning fumes. Alistair got up and pulled a cloth over his nose and mouth as he carved a path through what was left of the guards.  
Rosalyn and Soris abandoned their bows and switched to swords as they joined the fray, coming up on Jarvia from the back. When they had killed or injured all her guards, Alistair and Leliana stepped back and let the Tabris family take their turn, hacking away until Jarvia couldn’t fight back and hit the floor, beaten. Soris looked at Rosalyn and stepped back a step, keeping his sword up in defense. Rosalyn knelt down and grabbed Jarvia by the hair and asked, “Anything you want to add to your last statement?”  
Jarvia shook her head and closed her eyes. Rosalyn looked at Soris who nodded, and she drew her dagger across the woman’s throat, letting her body drop to the floor. She wiped the dagger on Jarvia’s jerkin, stood up and spat on her body. Soris followed suit and they left the caves, Alistair and Leliana following, their business finished.

@@@@@

Alistair stayed back and let Soris and Rosalyn take the lead as they headed back to the house they shared in the Diamond Quarter. The entered the house and Soris turned to Leliana, “Would you excuse us?” he asked. She nodded and put out her hand to stop Alistair from following.  
“Let them go, Alistair. They need each other right now. Come and let Wynne look at your arm.” He let her lead him to a chair as he stared after Rosalyn and Soris as they walked down the hallway, disappearing into the room he shared with Rosalyn.  
Silence permeated the room as the other companions stared at him and Leliana. Finally Wynne said, “I’m guessing you were successful. Hold still.” She began to unbuckle his breastplate and arm guards.  
“Yes. Jarvia is dead and her carta is shut down,” Leliana told her. She beckoned the servant, who stood by the wall. “Send water and soap for them to wash.” The servant bowed and left to do her bidding. “Give them time. It has been a very trying day for them,” she told Alistair.  
It was all Alistair could do to keep from rushing into the bedroom to hold her, but it was a family matter between them and as such should be dealt with per se. Wynne cast a healing spell on his arm, “All done. It wasn’t that bad. Don’t use it for a day or so.” He nodded; his eyes still on the hallway.  
As if he had willed it so, the door to the bedroom opened and Soris stepped out. “Alistair?” he called, motioning him to come.  
Alistair finished unbuckling his breastplate, dropping it to the floor as he stood up, then pulled off his gauntlets, dropping them as he walked down the hallway. He stopped in front of Soris, who said, “i\It’s okay, cousin.” Alistair smiled weakly and put his hand on Soris’ shoulder and squeezed. “She needs you now, I think. I’ll see you aren’t disturbed.” He left Alistair at the door and walked out to the living area. Alistair opened the door and entered.  
Rosalyn was standing at the window, looking out at the city below. She had removed her armor and was standing there, barefoot, dressed in just her breeches and shirt. She was fingering the amulet he had given her as she stared out at the city. Alistair shut the door and stood still, watching her as he reached out with his senses. He felt her block him, something she had never done before, and so he pulled back, waiting for her to make the first move.  
“Tell me I did the right thing,” she said softly. “Tell me it will be all right now; that I won’t become like her.” She closed her eyes, fighting the tears that refused to be kept at bay.  
He took a step forward, “It’s not up to me to say whether you did the right thing, Lyn. Only you can decide that.”  
“I can’t.”  
“You will. And when you do, it will be that it was the right thing.”  
Rosalyn turned to look at him, tears streaming down her face. He stood there and looked at her, his heart breaking with hers. When they could stand it no more they met in the middle of the room, clasping each other tightly as if it were the last time, and time stood still.

@@@@@

“So Jarvia is dead and her carta is finished. I had hoped they would surrender,” said Harrowmont as he stared into the flames in the fireplace before him. Rosalyn remained silent, her head bowed. “I do not wish to go back on my word but Bhelen has raised the stakes. He has managed to force a vote in the Assembly in a week’s time. Until then the Assembly will not hear any other pleas.”  
“What is it that you need us to do?” asked Rosalyn, sensing there was more to his statement then just telling them there was to be a vote.  
Harrowmont turned back to them, “What do you know of the Paragon Branka?”  
Alistair stepped forward, “I’ve heard the name. She was an inventor of some sort, a smith I think.”  
“Indeed she was, your highness. In honor of her achievements, she was named a Paragon and given her own house. Two years ago, she took her house and went into the Deep Roads on a mad quest. All she left behind was her husband, Oghren. No one has heard from her since. If she could return and endorse someone for the throne, the Assembly would have to accede to her wishes.”  
“And if she is dead?” asked Rosalyn.  
“Bringing proof of her death or a body to return to the stone would show that the ancestors favor us and it was by my hand that she was found. She never like being a Paragon, preferring her work to politics. It is hard to say what she will say or do on my behalf if she does anything at all. But she hates Darkspawn with a passion so her voice would be valuable to support your treaty.”  
Rosalyn looked at Alistair and reached out to see what he felt. Finding what she wanted, she turned to Harrowmont, “If it will get us our troops, we’ll find Branka.”  
“Here is a map of what we believe is her route. She was headed toward an ancient thaig known as Caridin’s Cross, miles below where we normally venture. Find her husband, Oghren, he might be of some help to you.” He handed her a rolled up map. “I’ll try to stall the vote as long as possible to buy you time. Ancestors guide your steps, Wardens.”  
A servant ushered them out and they walked back to the house. “I was hoping I could put the Deep Roads off until the end,” Alistair declared.  
“What end is that?” she asked.  
He walked over to the edge of the road and looked out over the city. “My end. When we get our calling, most Wardens come here and head to the Deep Roads for one last battle. It’s much better than the alternative.”  
“Cheery. Is that what you want to do?”  
“I don’t relish the thought of going insane or turning into a Darkspawn ghoul, so yes, that’s what I want to do.”  
Rosalyn stopped and looked up at him. “Then that’s what we’ll do.”  
“You would do that?” he asked her.  
“I won’t live without you, Alistair. Not now.”  
His hand came up and brushed the hair away from her face. “Lyn? There’s something I want to ask you and I’m not sure how.”  
She smiled, “So just ask. It’s not bad, is it?”  
“Oh no! I mean…I don’t think it is, but I don’t know what you’ll think.”  
She put out her hand and stopped him before he started pacing. “Alistair, what is it?”  
He cleared his throat, stalling, “I was wondering…if you wouldn’t mind maybe…marrying me?”  
Rosalyn stopped dead, her eyes wide. “You want me to….marry you?”  
He put his hands on her arms, “Yes, I do. Please?”  
She reached up and took his left hand away from her arm and turned to look out at the city below. Her emotions were churning and she was lost. “I…don’t know what to say. You want me to marry you.”  
“Yes. Is something wrong?”  
She closed her eyes, forming the words she had to say. “What if you become king?”  
Alistair hung his head, reality sinking in. “I’m not going to be king. I said so to Eamon.”  
She turned to look at him, “But what if you have no choice?”  
His temper flared and he grabbed her arms, “I will not be king! And I won’t lose you!” He took a deep breath and continued, “I love you, Lyn. If you want to wait, I’ll wait, but I won’t change my mind.” He pulled her to him and kissed her hard, then turned and left her standing at the edge of the road.

@@@@@

Rosalyn headed back to the house and found that Alistair had not returned. She made his excuses and told the companions to prepare for a trip underground. “Pack for a month even though it may only be a week or two. Unless Alistair wishes someone else, we’ll take Wynne and Zevran. Leliana and Soris will remain here in Orzammar and the rest of you will return to Redcliffe and deliver an update to the Arl.”  
“Of course,” agreed Leliana. “While you were gone, a messenger from Redcliffe arrived with these messages.” She handed her a letter pouch embossed with the Arl’s seal.  
She thanked Leliana and went through the scrolls. There was one for Alistair from Eamon and one for her from Teagan. The other was for both of them from Jowan. She smiled as she thought of her fellow Warden and new friend, so far away from the trials they faced. She took the scrolls and went to her room, shutting the door and removing her armor. She pulled on a simple linen shift and gown that she had found in the room and sat down on the bed to read.  
Jowan’s letter was comforting to her. He was learning fast and had discovered many things that he felt would be beneficial to the Wardens. Avernus was failing fast and had admitted to him that he could no longer prolong his life with blood magic since they had closed the summoning circles. Jowan admitted that he had little time left and vowed to join them to fight as soon as he was able. She set it aside for Alistair to read when he returned.  
Teagan’s letter was a welcome diversion, although some of the information it contained was not. Connor had completely recovered and was being tutored by a mage healer from the Circle who had joined the army. He was a fast learner and was able to control his power quite well now, to the relief of everyone around him. Eamon still hadn’t been told, but Teagan had given Isolde an ultimatum so he was sure she would tell his brother soon.  
The army had grown to several thousand men. Most of the surviving troops had returned to Redcliffe, bringing with them many troops from other noble houses whose masters and mistresses had perished at Ostagar. All were welcomed who wished to fight the Blight.  
Redcliffe village and the castle were recovering well. There was much damage to repair, but food was in good supply and the harvest was coming soon. Refugees were moving into the area from blighted lands so manpower was increasing day by day.  
The most troubling thing she read was Teagan’s admission that Eamon had entered into several negotiations with noble houses in pursuit of a marriage for Alistair. Eamon felt that marriage to the right noblewoman would create connections that would only serve to strengthen his claim for the throne and insure the aid they desperately needed. Teagan was apologetic to her, recognizing her love for Alistair and was careful to admit that he did not approve of his brother’s actions and had Alistair’s best interests in mind; those interests being Rosalyn and the Grey Wardens. He finished the letter with a thank you for all her help and best wishes in their travels.  
Rosalyn laid the letter down on the table next to the bed and walked to the window. She knew she had done the right thing putting off answering Alistair’s question, especially in lieu of what she had read in the letter. She could only assume that Eamon’s letter would contain much the same information as Teagan’s had. If Alistair was to be king, he must marry and have an heir, a difficult and perhaps impossible task; but infinitely more impossible if she were his queen. Rosalyn would never leave him though; she had vowed that and would keep her promise, even if it meant breaking her own heart and his.  
The door opened and Alistair came in, shutting and bolting the door behind him. She could sense disappointment, frustration, and pain but also love. He still wanted her, perhaps more than ever. He removed his sword and shield, leaving them by the door then walked to the side table and removed his gauntlets, placing them on the table next to hers. He unbuckled his arm guards and laid them down then reached for the buckles of his breastplate, only to find other hands unbuckling them for him. Alistair’s arms dropped to his side as he let her pull the heavy plate from his chest and set it on the floor next to the table. She knelt down and unbuckled and removed his greaves, setting them down near the chest piece.  
Alistair let out a breath and shrugged his shoulders, grateful to be out of the heavy plate. Arms came around his waist as she held him and he felt her head resting on his back. He sighed and closed his eyes, letting the stress pass over him and out, controlling his breathing until he was at peace. It was then she spoke.  
“I love you and I want you so much,” she said softly, her voice cracking with unspent tears and emotion. “But everything is so uncertain for us.”  
He sighed again, “I’ll be here when you’re ready, love.”

@@@@@

Eamon’s letter only encouraged Alistair to work harder and faster at accomplishing their mission in Orzammar. He never divulged the contents to Rosalyn, and Rosalyn never asked; but as soon as he had read it, he excused himself and left the room, returning a few minutes later without the letter. Soris told her later he had taken it outside and thrown it into the lava that flowed below the city. When he returned to their room, he sat down at the desk and penned a quick note, sealed it with the seal on his ring, and gave it to the servant to be delivered to Redcliffe. He turned from shutting the door and smiled slyly at Rosalyn.  
Rosalyn shared the contents of her letter from Teagan with him and while pleased that his uncle was so kind to her, he knew that the matter of his future with her and the Wardens was in danger. What was more apparent to him was her acceptance that their relationship would end. She had resigned herself to the fact that he would be king and as such, there would not be a place for her in his life. Alistair knew he could never convince her with words so he tried with actions, making love to her with all the passion he felt that night. Rosalyn responded in kind, burning her image in his heart and soul. The subject of his proposal was tabled but the offer was never withdrawn. He would wait.  
Preparations for the Deep Roads expedition were underway, Wynne and Morrigan made sure there was plenty of food and healing potions for them. Soris, Leliana and Sten saw that their armor and weapons were cleaned and repaired; going so far as to leave the city to visit the merchants outside to purchase better arrows for Rosalyn’s bow. They were ready to leave the next day and decided to celebrate with a night out at Tapsters Tavern. Fortunately the bartender kept a supply of ale and whiskey from topside and was willing to provide it to them at a reduced cost. So while it was still an expensive evening, it was an enjoyable one.  
As they left the tavern that evening, they came across two men arguing. Steering clear of them to avoid trouble, Soris caught wind of a name, “Oghren.”  
“Roz! Alistair! Listen!” I think that’s him,” he said, pointing to a middle aged, red haired dwarf. Alistair had backed Rosalyn into a corner for some mischief when he heard his name.  
The red haired warrior suddenly took off in a huff, leaving the other man standing, shaking his head. “Oghren’s barely warrior caste anymore and just clomps in here like he’s entitled.”  
“What do you mean ‘barely warrior cast?’” asked Rosalyn as she disentangled herself from Alistair’s clutches.  
“Oh, he killed Lord Meino’s youngest son in a duel to first blood. It was a huge scandal and Oghren should have been executed, but he’d won honors in the Deep Roads. So they stripped him of all weapons and forbid him from engaging in fights within city limits. If he breaks the decree, he’ll be exiled.”  
“So what was that fight all about?” asked Soris.  
The warrior scratched his head, “It’s been two years since Branka left. Search teams have found nothing but Oghren wants to keep risking more lives by searching. She is still his wife, even if she left him behind. If you see any guardsmen, tell them Oghren was at it again. Ancestors keep you, Wardens.” He bowed his head and left them.  
“So the man we are supposed to find is a drunken, lonely husband?” commented Soris. “That should be easy enough to find here. Everyone is a drunk. Even us, it seems.” He laughed and hiccupped as Alistair patted him on the back.  
“Oh stop it you two! We know who we are looking for now. I put the word out that we are leaving tomorrow to look for Branka. The bartender at Tapsters will see that Oghren gets the word.” She took their arms and steered them towards the house. “Time for bed boys.”  
“Both of us? There’s not enough room in our bed, love. Soris will have to take the floor,” slurred Alistair as he staggered down the street.  
“I have my own bed, thank you, and it’s full enough,” Soris replied, belching.  
“Why must you both act like children all the time? Honestly!” exclaimed Rosalyn as she pushed them through the door.  
Leliana was waiting in the front room, “Again? They are having way too much fun here. I’ll take Soris and you take Alistair. Ugh!” She grabbed Soris’ hand and pulled him down the hallway to his room. “Come on Soris. Time for bed.”  
“Bed? Oooo! Company tonight!” he exclaimed as she pushed him into his room.  
Rosalyn was left alone in the front room with Alistair, who seemed to be swaying in time to music that wasn’t there. “Alistair? Are you all right?”  
“Never better, love. Want to dance? I do know how, you know. Eamon made me learn.” He put his arms around her and began to twirl her around and down the hallway to their bedroom door. He turned the knob and pulled her close as he did a final twirl, pushing the door shut with his foot as he came to a stop in the middle of the floor with Rosalyn giggling and hanging onto him for dear life. He looked down at her, his demeanor changing, once comical and funny, now serious and determined. He cupped her face in his hands and brought his lips to hers, meeting her mouth with his, tasting her, and rejoicing in her feel. She sighed and opened to him, listening to his deep throated laugh as she realized he had her where he wanted her.  
“So it was an act. I was hoping it was,” she said as she ran her hands through the hair on the back of his neck, feeling him shiver.  
He laughed again, “I wanted to have fun, but the type I want to have isn’t conducive to being falling down drunk. I’m sure you understand.” He pulled her closer and she felt his hardness against her stomach.  
“No, it wouldn’t be, “she agreed. “Do you really know how to dance?”  
“I happen to be very good, but not when I’m standing here.” He picked her up and carried her to the bed, finding her mouth as he set her down. “Shall I show you my moves?”  
Rosalyn kicked off her boots and pulled the laces of her gown. “And I’ll show you mine,” she answered.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> City elf Rosalyn Tabris finds her destiny and the love of her life with the Grey Wardens. Non-canon plot with a lot of fun mixed in. A gift for my friends at Dragon Age Nexus.

The Deep Roads

The companions said their farewells the next morning as Alistair, Rosalyn, Zevran and Wynne were the first to go, shouldering their packs and weapons, taking only the basics with them. There was no need for tents in the caves so their packs were heavy with foodstuffs and healing supplies. Alistair spent a few minutes alone with Soris before they left, coming out sober but ready. Rosalyn hugged her cousin tightly, “What was that all about?” she asked him.  
“He wanted me to keep this for him. It’s his will. He made me read it, Roz; he’s leaving everything he has to you, me, Shianni, and Uncle Cyrion.”  
“What?” She took the will and read it quickly. Alistair had bequeathed all his property to them. The biggest surprise was what the property was. “This can’t be true!”  
“That’s what I said to him, but he says it was. He’d already cleared with Arl Eamon. It will be ours.”  
Rosalyn shook her head; there were so many things about Alistair she didn’t know and he never ceased to surprise her. “Don’t think you can spend it yet. Behave yourself while I’m gone.” She handed him another scroll. “I don’t really have much of my own, but I think that whatever Nelaros brought into the marriage is still mine. We’d signed the contracts and made it legal. Here’s a letter stating that I wish it to be returned to his family if they can be found. If not, split it with Shianni and spend it well or I’ll come back and pound on you!”  
Soris laughed then took her in his arms and hugged her tightly. “Come back, Roz. I love you, you know,” he whispered to her.  
“I love you too, Soris,” she replied and shouldered her pack to leave the house, stopping to kiss Leliana good bye and whisper, “Keep him out of trouble for me.” Leliana nodded and smiled.  
“Do not fail, Kadan,” Sten told her as he opened the door for her. “You are strong.” He leaned in and whispered, “Bring the saarebas back to me.” She smiled and nodded to him, placing her hand on his arm. He covered her small hand with his own huge one and squeezed.  
The last one she saw was Morrigan, who was standing outside in what passed for a garden talking to Alistair. He was noticeably annoyed at her attention, but finally she heard him say, “I will.” He turned from her and walked to stand with Zevran and Wynne who were bidding Soris farewell. Rosalyn looked over at the young witch and received a cold look that chilled her. She steeled her gaze at the woman and walked to meet the others, blatantly ignoring Morrigan.  
“Let’s go,” she told them a little curtly and proceeded to walk down the street towards the gate to the Commons. Alistair looked over at Morrigan to find the witch gone. He shook his head and followed the others.  
“What was that all about?” he asked Rosalyn when he had caught up with her.  
“Nothing,” she answered.  
He put his hand out and stopped her, “I think it was.”  
“Why did she have to speak to you so badly?”  
“She was wishing me luck in her annoying little way. I thanked her and said I would take care of myself. What is it between you two?”  
“I don’t know, Alistair. I just think she…never mind. I really don’t want to think about her right now. Let’s get this over with before I say forget it and go home.”   
“This is about what you told me before, isn’t it? About Morrigan and you?”  
She looked up at him, “Yes. She’s never been the warmest of people to me, you know that. But ever since you and I…” She stopped a moment, searching for the right words, “I think she resents me being with you. I don’t know why, but she does. If we didn’t need her help so badly, I’d send her back to Flemeth right now with a kick in the ass.”  
Alistair smiled, “I’d pay good money to see that and put the rest on you in that fight. There’s nothing between me and Morrigan, never, ever, ever, ever, ever…should I keep saying it for you or do you get the message now?”  
“I know but it’s just that she….”  
He never gave her a chance to finish as his mouth met hers in a stirring kiss that turned heads and made her lose all train of thought. When he finally pulled away, he whispered, “Never. I’m yours and no one else’s. Do you need more convincing?”  
“Yes, but I’ll wait until I can convince you back.” He laughed deep down in his throat, making her shiver with desire. “Shall we go?” she said, “Branka is waiting.”  
“Hang Branka,” he said, claiming her mouth once more before shouldering his pack and heading for the gate.  
Zevran laughed at her as she watched him walk away and Wynne remarked, shaking her head, “What is it with you two all the time?” Rosalyn shrugged and followed Alistair out the gate, heading for the Deep Roads.

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The group passed through the Commons, receiving well wishes from several citizens as they passed by. Rosalyn was surprised so many knew of their journey and mission but thanked the well-wishers, grateful for their concern. As they went down the steps to the huge double doors that marked the entry into the Deep Roads, they heard a huffing sound coming up behind them, “Stranger! Have you seen any Grey Wardens hereabouts?” asked a deep gravelly voice.  
Rosalyn and Alistair turned around to see a dwarf, dressed in well-made but badly cared for armor, huffing and puffing from the exertion of running. “I heard that the Grey Wardens were going into the Deep Roads to search for Branka for Lord Harrowmont.”  
“I am a Grey Warden,” replied Rosalyn.  
“Well, if you’re the best they have, standards have certainly fallen way down, but I suppose that would account for an elf being down here.” Alistair and Zevran laughed behind their hands and Wynne hid a smile as Rosalyn gave the three of them a dirty look. The man continued on as if he had heard nothing, “I don’t suppose I could ask you for a favor?”  
Alistair was intrigued, mostly because the man seemed to unnerve Rosalyn so much, no easy task, he knew. “Why not? Everyone else does,” he answered for her. Rosalyn smacked his arm and he laughed again.  
“My name’s Oghren and if you’ve heard of me it’s because someone told you I piss ale and kill little boys who look at me wrong.” He stopped for a moment, drawing out a flask and taking a drink, “That’s mostly true, I guess. But they always leave out how I’m the only one who’s still trying to save our only Paragon.”  
Rosalyn looked down at him and shook her head as he politely offered her a drink, “You’re Branka’s husband, aren’t you?”  
Oghren nodded, “I suppose you could say that I am. I know what she was looking for and I can help you find it. All I ask is that you take me with you. I’ve been there before and know how to fight.”  
“What kind of information do you have?” asked Zevran. Oghren looked up at him angrily but the elf kept going, “You have to admit, we have the right to know something about you other than what the rumors tell us.”  
“Smartass. Hmmm…I like that. Branka was looking for the Anvil of the Void. The smith Caridin built it and it’s the secret to making golems. As far as anyone knows, the Anvil was built in Ortan thaig, Caridin’s home. Branka knew it was beyond Caridin’s Cross but no one has seen that thaig for over five hundred years.”  
“I have a map to Caridin’s Cross,” Rosalyn told him.  
Oghren’s eyes opened wide, “Then if we’re going, let’s go.   
“What about a weapon? You plan on fighting bare handed?” asked Wynne.  
“I’m not a bloody Silent Sister here, woman! I’ll pick up something out there.”  
Wynne shook her head and pulled her dagger from her belt, “It’s small but it does the trick. Use it until they find you something.” She looked at the Wardens,” I think I’ll leave you to it then. This seems to be a job for younger and more experienced fighters. Here’s my pack with all my supplies. There’s enough to keep you healthy for weeks. Alistair, do you remember what I taught you?”  
“I do. But are you certain?” he asked her.  
“I am. Go find your Paragon, but come back whole.” She kissed Rosalyn on the cheek and gave Alistair a motherly hug. Zevran kissed her goodbye, lingering a little longer than normal. “Get yourself back here in one piece, scamp,” she chided. To Oghren she said, “Good luck, ser.” With that, she handed her pack to Oghren, “Maker watch over you all.” She turned and walked back to the house they all shared.  
“Branka won’t find herself you know,” said Oghren, shoving the dagger into his belt and shouldering the pack. The others watched her go then turned to the gates.   
A group of dwarven soldiers with the mark of the Legion of the Dead were standing guard. “What’s this? An elf? We cannot allow you past the front lines without a deshyr’s permission.”  
Oghren stepped forward, “These are Grey Wardens, man! Let them pass!”  
Alistair smiled again, clearly enjoying himself, “What he’s trying to say is that we have permission.”  
The guard shook his head, “Oghren could have been a deshyr for House Branka but I suppose he’s the next best thing. You may pass.” He stopped Oghren, “Is that all you have for a weapon? Here, take this, you’ll need it where you’re going.” He handed Oghren a huge sword and Oghren strapped it to his back, nodding his thanks.  
“Thank you,” said Rosalyn.  
“Best of luck to you Wardens!” the guard called as they proceeded to the door. The gatekeepers pulled the huge doors open and they creaked loudly on their heavy hinges. Alistair led the way through, followed by Rosalyn and the others. Once they had crossed the threshold, the heavy doors swung shut, echoing through the cave in front of them. They were on their way.

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Oghren proved to be one of the more interesting people Rosalyn had met on her travels throughout Ferelden. An excellent warrior and proven leader, he was also a roaring drunk who managed to find ways to locate or make spirits anywhere and from anything. It only took one drink for Rosalyn to swear off alcohol for the duration of their campaign. Alistair was only slightly more adventurous, managing to down a drink or two on the rare occasion that Oghren’s offerings smelled at least somewhat like a familiar spirit. Zevran, however, was the most tolerant, imbibing in whatever the dwarf managed to create or find, actually enjoying it on occasion. They two of them became bosom buddies rather quickly.  
For Rosalyn and Alistair, Oghren and Zevran’s drinking times created an opportunity for them to sneak off and enjoy themselves while their companions were otherwise distracted. They took great pains at first to hide the fact they were sneaking off and what they were sneaking off to do until they returned to camp to find Zevran and Oghren waiting for them. “So….how was it, chantry boy? Is she rough with you? Or is she soft and pliable? Come on, tell us,” Oghren asked. Alistair’s eyes narrowed as he regarded the miniature drunk with disdain.  
“You do realize the lady in question is standing right next to me?” he pointed out angrily.  
Zevran hiccupped and added, “I was merely telling my new friend that you and our dear sweet Warden had been involved for some time. He was quite amazed that she hadn’t picked me instead but then so was I at the time.”  
Alistair looked down at Rosalyn with a confused look, “I have absolutely no idea how to answer that.”  
Rosalyn decided to take matters to a new level and assert herself with her testosterone saturated group of companions. She reached down and took the flask that Zevran was holding; sniffing it to check its quality, then downed a large mouthful and swallowed. She handed the flask back to him and said sweetly, “He’s amazing, such staying power, and huge!” With that said she walked over to her pack and pulled out her blankets, spreading them out to make her bed.  
Alistair stood in place, his mouth falling open as he regarded the woman he loved and what she had said. Catching himself, he made a decision, smiled at his stunned counterparts and joined her. He pulled out his blankets and began to spread them out next to hers. “That was unbelievable! Do you have any idea how badly I want you right now?” he whispered.  
“Show me, chantry boy,” she replied, saucily.   
He reached down and hauled her up, throwing her over his shoulder as he strode to the nearest dark corner. “Keep watch!” he commanded. Zevran and Oghren merely raised their flasks and toasted them.  
Rosalyn giggled as his hands pulled at the buckles on his chest piece and the laces on his breeches while she proceeded to take off her breeches and boots. She managed to loosen her armor just enough for him to slip his hands in and find her breasts, kneading them as she began to gasp. Alistair pulled her thighs up and around him, thrusting into her as she cried out. His finger found her nub and began to massage it as he thrust into her, and when she peaked; she nearly screamed his name as he spilled into her. His arms came round her and supported her as she slumped in his arms, slowly returning to him. His forehead rested on hers as he caught his breath, “I’m sorry, Lyn. I guess I took advantage.”  
She kissed him lightly, “I baited you, love. I should be the one to apologize. You don’t ever have to prove yourself with me, you know.”  
“I know. It’s just…you are so damned desirable when you act that way. I can’t help it, I love it. I can live with their teasing; I have been for months now.” He released her and retied his laces. “We’ve been down here for two days and it’s starting to get to me. The song never goes away, no matter what I do. I’ve barely slept. The only time it goes away is when I’m with you, like this.”  
“So this isn’t all just a chance to prove yourself to them?” Rosalyn hadn’t thought he’d be the one having so much trouble with the voices, he was always so in control. She tucked her shirt back in her breeches and rebuckled her chest piece. “Alistair, any time you want this, you can have me. All you need to do is tell me. It helps me too.”  
“Really?”  
“Forget about them. If I cared anything about what they thought, I wouldn’t be here. I love you and if this is what helps, okay.”  
“I love you too, you know.”  
“I do know and I never want to stop hearing it.”  
Alistair bent down to kiss her, “Good to know.”

Caridin’s Cross and Ortan Thaig

The first stop on their journey was Caridin’s Cross, an abandoned town just off the main route through the Deep Roads. “Branka was hoping it was hidden there, but earlier search parties found no trace of her there. Signs showed she had moved deeper.”  
“Do you have any idea where she might have been headed?” asked Alistair.  
“From here I suppose it would be Ortan thaig. We should look around for a bit, just to see if the searchers missed anything.”  
While exploring Branka’s old campsite, they came across a half crazed tainted young man who called himself Ruck, living in a secluded section of the old campsite. He had no information on Branka or where she was headed; his mind was nearly gone from drinking the tainted blood of Darkspawn. Zevran suggested they put the poor man out of his misery and volunteered to do the deed out of pity. Rosalyn argued that he might be saved, but the others shook their heads. “Come love. Zevran can take care of this,” Alistair said, leading her away. To Zevran he said, “Make it quick and see if there is anything to tell us who he is.” Zevran nodded and left to follow Ruck, returning shortly after with some trinkets and a letter he’d found on the man. Rosalyn stowed the items away, whispering a prayer to the Maker and Ruck’s ancestors and they continued on, wandering through the passages until they found the right one that took them to the road to Ortan thaig.   
Harrowmont’s map was vague but pointed to a single passageway that led them into darkness. Oghren lit torches and they proceeded slowly, working their way through spiders, deep stalkers and the occasional Darkspawn until they saw lights ahead of them.   
The passage emptied into a large cavern, full of buildings, most of them crumbling. “Ortan thaig. No one’s seen this place in five hundred years,” Oghren told them. “Branka’s been here though. She always took chips out of the walls to check their composition. She’s been all over this place.” He pointed to where a chip had been removed from a nearby pillar.  
“Let’s search a bit and see what we can find,” suggested Alistair. He rubbed his eyes and Rosalyn was worried about him. He had begun to sleep some but was still getting far less sleep than he needed.   
“Stay and rest, love. We can do this, unless you would rather….?” she replied.  
He shook his head. “It sounds wonderful but I think I’ll pass. You’re right, I should rest.” He sat down on a broken step and leaned back, closing his eyes. “I’ll sit here and meditate for a bit. That should help.” Rosalyn bent down and kissed his cheek and left him for a bit, searching nearby with Oghren so she could keep an eye on him.   
“He is having trouble down here?” asked Oghren.  
Rosalyn pushed a broken chest open with her foot, “Yes. Wardens don’t take being down here very well. We can hear the Darkspawn more down here and they are getting louder the farther down we travel.”  
“So why don’t you have trouble?”  
“I don’t know. I had a lot of problems when I first got to Orzammar, but since we came down here, it seems to have gotten easier to bear. Not that I’m not feeling the effects though. The song never goes away, it just seems to be easier to take at times and at times it isn’t.”  
“Maybe chantry boy needs to get more then. That helps, doesn’t it?”  
Rosalyn blushed, “He says it does and I have to admit it works for me too. But for some reason Alistair is more sensitive to it right now. We’ll need to keep an eye on him.” Oghren nodded and continued searching. Rosalyn looked over to where Alistair sat, his eyes closed and his body relaxed. He was sleeping so she made sure he got as much as he could before they moved on.  
They spent a couple of hours searching the thaig, finding the former town’s records sealed in a chest. Rosalyn salvaged what she could of them to take to the Shaperate for their records. She woke Alistair from his sleep and together they joined Oghren and Zevran, making their way over a bridge across a steaming river. They found a pedestal on the other side along with two chests containing keepsakes and letters from members of Branka’s house. Rosalyn stowed the items away and gasped as she looked at a particular scroll. “Oghren, is this Branka’s journal?”  
“Let me see that!” Oghren grabbed the scroll and began to read. “She says that she found that the Anvil wasn’t built in Ortan thaig so she was headed south, into the Dead Trenches. The Anvil must be in Bownammar, the city of the Dead. Nasty place, they say the Darkspawn breed there. That should be our next stop.”  
Alistair took the scroll and rolled it up, stowing it in his pack, “We should take advantage of the lull here and get some rest. See if we can find one of these buildings that might still be habitable for shelter. We’d be safer.”  
They found a small house near the river that was still in reasonably good shape. Oghren found some beds that were still usable and together he and Zevran set them up in two rooms, making sure that Rosalyn and Alistair would have their much needed privacy. They had stopped teasing Alistair as they discovered the extreme stress the Wardens were under and made sure their needs were met so they could rest as often as possible.  
As they lay in their makeshift bed later, Rosalyn noticed that Alistair had calmed considerably that day and no longer complained about the song in his head. She could not make that claim, however. The farther they had gone that day, the louder the song had gotten. Whereas before they had been a minor buzzing, it had changed for her into something much more terrifying, and it was calling her name.

@@@@@

“Rosalyn, come to me. Let me give you rest. Come.”   
Rosalyn jerked awake, sweat pouring off her body, despite the chill of the stone around her. She closed her eyes and could still hear the voice, calling to her, so sweet and calm, promising everything she wanted. “No! You aren’t real!” she screamed, jumping up from the pallet she shared with Alistair and running a dozen steps before falling to her knees. “I can’t…” Tears fell as she felt strong arms pick her up and carry her, setting her back down on the pallet then enfolding her in warmth and love.  
“Shhh…it’s all right love,” Alistair crooned as if she were a child. “I’m here.” He stroked her hair and kissed her, trying everything he could think of to calm her.   
Zevran handed him a flask, “Get her to drink this. It will calm her nerves.” Alistair sniffed the concoction and handed it back to him. “Relax, its brandy; bad brandy, but the real thing. It will help.”   
Alistair took the flask and put his hand behind Rosalyn’s head, “Drink, love. It will help.” She sipped at the flask, coughing with each swallow, pushing it away after three small drinks. Alistair started to hand it back to Zevran but thought the better and took a large draw himself, gasping as it went down hard. “Ugh! Bad is right. Thanks.”   
Zevran smiled and reached out to stroke Rosalyn’s hair. “Perhaps we should take her back to Orzammar.”  
“We’re too far now; best to keep going than turn back. Besides, she’d never let us anyway.”  
“She doesn’t seem to be getting worse now but definitely not better either. Why are you better?”  
Alistair shifted Rosalyn in his arms and Zevran took her legs and laid them on the pallet while Alistair laid her head in his lap. “I’m not really. I can hear it same as she can. It’s so strong because we are in their lair now. But she says they are calling her by name. All I hear are the whispers from the Horde.”  
“Why would they call her by name?” asked Zevran, clearly frightened for his friends.  
“They know she is here, I guess. Why they don’t call me is what I want to know. They want her for something. We’ll have to be on the lookout for it, whatever it is. Get some more sleep while she is out. We’ll have to go soon enough.” Zevran patted him on the shoulder and sat down next to him as Alistair leaned his head back against the stone wall and closed his eyes.   
Oghren woke them a few hours later, eager to keep moving. Rosalyn was better, but still showed the deep strain of lack of sleep and exhaustion. She refused to complain, shouldering her share of the burdens they bore. She hardly spoke now, except to Alistair. It was taking all her strength and concentration just to keep going.  
The passages began to curve and meander through the stone without patterns now. Alistair pulled out the bottle of oil he used to clean his sword and mixed a portion of red stone dust he had found with it. He began to paint arrows on the walls to mark the way out. “I’d use string but we’d need miles of it,” he joked to no one.  
Surprisingly, they saw fewer Darkspawn as they continued down into the stone. Oghren was curious as to why that would be the case. “Where would they be? Topside?”  
“They must be now. I haven’t heard the Archdemon for a while, only the Horde itself and they are weak. It must mean they’ve gone to the surface. We need to hurry if that’s the case,” Alistair told him. Rosalyn eyes grew wide and she looked over at Alistair, gauging his feelings. He nodded to her and saw the look of fear and concern that came over her face. She turned and kept on, trudging forward.  
The next day they found a new set of dwarven made tunnels with intricate carvings and runes carved into them. Oghren examined the remnants of a sign post and gasped at what he found, “Bownammar! I thought this place would have fallen into dust by now but here it is; the city of the Legion of the Dead, still here. Caridin built it to honor the Legion and their sacrifices.”  
“So Branka is here?” asked Zevran.  
“I doubt it, nothing here but corpses and leftover Darkspawn now. No, she’s gone on. There’s still more to find.” His voice held the disappointment he felt as he shouldered his axe and kept going, the others following.

The Dead Trenches

Later that day, they noticed the Darkspawn presence increasing slightly. Zevran was first to notice, followed by Oghren. “We are fighting them more often again; like when we first entered the Deep Roads,” the elf commented.   
They found a larger, carved passage that led to an immense cavern, cut from the living rock around it. A single bridge spanned what looked to be a bottomless chasm. Darkspawn were attacking a small group of dwarven soldiers wearing the armor of the Legion of the Dead. “Shall we assist?” Alistair asked.   
“Why not?” replied Oghren.   
Rosalyn drew her bow and ran for position with Zevran behind the Legionnaires. They opened fire, picking off those on the outside, forcing the Darkspawn to move closer to the soldiers to keep from being hit. Alistair and Oghren began to slice their way around the outside and soon found themselves out of enemy to slay.   
“You’d have to be crazy to be down here if you aren’t Legion,” said their commander. “I’m Kardol. Who are you?”  
“Grey Wardens Alistair and Rosalyn, Zevran and Oghren,” answered Alistair. “We are here looking for Branka and her house. Do you know anything of them?”  
The commander shook his head. “Not her, but I have seen some of her retainers. I put them out of their misery, poor sots. The last one mentioned something about Darkspawn and traps before he threw himself off that bridge. Best you forget about that one, friend.”  
“Where did these retainers come from?” asked Oghren.  
“Across that bridge and farther than I’m willing to go. We’ll stay here and wait for them.”  
Alistair looked at Rosalyn who had wandered over to the edge of the bridge alone. He cocked his head at Zevran, who joined her, both of them fearing to leave her alone for long. Alistair looked at the Legion commander, “Across that bridge, you said.” He looked at Oghren, “What say we move the lines forward for them, hmmm?”  
“I got your back, chantry boy. Lead on,” Oghren said, laughing. The four companions started across the bridge slowly, systematically taking out all the Darkspawn they came across. The Legionnaires followed, mopping up survivors. Thirty minutes later they were on the other side, resting next to a large statue of a forgotten paragon. “Not too shabby,” Oghren told them. “They’re going to have their work cut out for them now.” They waved to the Legionnaires as they headed to the next cave, listening to their cheers for their efforts.  
With the Darkspawn numbers reduced in the area, the group took a break for food and rest. Oghren took first watch while Zevran and Alistair sat on either side of Rosalyn as they leaned against the cavern wall. “Still with us, love?” Alistair asked.  
“Yes,” she replied weakly. “How much further?”  
“Oghren says a day or so yet. We are getting closer. Are you any better?” He pulled her closer, enfolding her in his arms.  
“I don’t hear the Archdemon anymore.”  
“Me either. All I hear now is the Horde. What about you?”  
“They’re still calling me.”  
Alistair held her tighter and kissed the top of her head. “I’ll never let them near you. I promise, love.”  
“I love you,” she said softly, closing her eyes.  
“And I love you,” he replied.

@@@@@

The Darkspawn presence became more pronounced the farther they went now. They were still few in number but no less vicious than any before them. Each time they were attacked, Alistair began to notice a pattern. Darkspawn would attack Alistair, Oghren and Zevran but were avoiding Rosalyn. At first he thought it was coincidence but each time it became more and more obvious that the Darkspawn were sparing her. They wanted her for something. He ordered Rosalyn not to go anywhere unaccompanied, even to relieve herself. While she was uncomfortable with the thought of being watched, she didn’t complain, feeling that he knew best in the matter.  
After a particularly tough battle against shrieks and hurlocks, Rosalyn’s demeanor suddenly changed. She said the song was gone, no longer calling her to some unknown destination. She began to eat and slept soundly when they stopped. Alistair was at a loss to explain it as he still heard the song himself.  
A few hours later found them in a newly cut passage through a carved wall. They meandered along when a voice was heard above them, “First day, they come and catch everyone.”   
“What was that?” asked Oghren, suspiciously.  
The voice came again, “Second day, they beat us and eat some for meat.”  
Rosalyn put her hands over her ears, “That’s the voice! Tell me you hear it!”  
“Third day, the men are all gnawed on again.”  
Alistair pulled her close and wrapped his arms around her, “I hear it, Lyn. We all do.”  
“Fourth day, we wait and fear for our fate.”  
Zevran was also disturbed by what he was hearing, “Might I suggest moving on?”   
“Fifth day, they return and it's another girl's turn.”  
They continued on through the passage, listening to the voice as it continued its macabre poem.  
“Sixth day, her screams we hear in our dreams.”  
Each turn in the passage brought another line of the poem.  
“Seventh day, she grew as in her mouth they spew.”  
Another turn in the passage.  
“Eighth day, we hate it as she is violated.”  
And another turn.  
“Ninth day, she grins and devours her kin.”  
And another.  
“Now she does feast, as she's become the beast."  
At the last turn, they found a doorway, opening to another hall, decorative and runed. At the end of the hallway a woman was squatting, feeding on the Darkspawn flesh that lay in front of her. She stood and turned around, bent and withered, her eyes glazed over with corruption.   
“What’s this? An elf? Exotic and impossible,” she said, her voice gravelly with disuse or perhaps overuse.   
“Rosalyn stepped forward but Alistair put his hand out to stop her. She shook her head and turned to the woman. “I am no dream. I can help you.”  
“No, you can’t. There’s nothing left. They…vomit, they violate, and they chant. They scream and then the change comes. All I could do was hope that Laryn went first so I would be spared. But I had to see that change. How could anyone endure?”  
“Are you from Branka’s house?” Alistair asked.  
“She’s Hespith, Branka’s captain and second in command. They were also…lovers, you could say,” explained Oghren. When the others looked at him, he shrugged. “Oh I knew. I could make allowances for that, but Branka never gave me the chance.”  
“Don’t talk of Branka! What she did…Ancestors forgive me for not stopping her!”  
Rosalyn put out her hand, “When did you last see her?”  
“No more than a few breaths, but longer than an eon. Long enough to miss her…to love her again…to hate her more than ever. I will not hear more about Branka! They spit blood and bile in my mouth! I would rather die than bring that with me, than let her see me like this. I will not become what I’ve seen!” She ran out of the room, the companions following until she disappeared into a small crack in the wall that sealed itself after her.  
They turned from where Hespith disappeared to see two large ogres coming at them. Drawing her bow, Rosalyn opened fire on the far one, slowing it down as Zevran drew his daggers and attacked. Alistair and Oghren took the first one, harrying and hacking it with sword and axe.   
Rosalyn pulled a fire bomb from her belt, “Everyone duck!” she screamed as she tossed the bomb at the ogres. The three men hit the ground, ducking and covering as the bomb exploded, stunning and injuring the ogres. The creatures still fought but were greatly weakened and fell soon after. The companions regrouped and assessed the damage, downing healing potions and water, then began to explore the area, looking for a way out.

Bownammar

As they searched the area, the discovered a huge set of doors leading to an immense building built in the cavern. The doors were locked and no amount of lock picking skill or force would open them. “We need to find the key,” said Zevran as he cursed the lock. “Perhaps one of the other doors will lead us to one.”  
The first door opened into a mausoleum with sarcophagi inset into the wall. Many of them were broken and rusted, the bones of long dead dwarves spilling out onto the floor. Oghren shifted a pile with his foot and discovered jewels and gold that had been buried with the dead. “Might as well take them myself. At least I’ll have something to show from this campaign.” He pocketed the stones, sharing them with Zevran and offering them to the Wardens.   
Alistair shook his head saying, “The last thing I need is something to remind me of down here. They’re all yours.” Rosalyn recoiled at the offering, shaking her head violently and stepping back. While no longer complaining about the voices, she rarely talked now, even to Alistair.  
Finding no sign of the key, they left and soon found a set of double doors that opened easily when pushed. Inside they found what appeared to be a chapel with memorials on all the walls. A round dais rose at the back of the room with what looked like a headstone set into the back of it. “Bownammar memorials,” said Oghren as he examined the stone. “These were Legionnaires.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out the jewels and gold he’d taken from the corpses. “I can find more elsewhere.” He placed them down in front of the stone and stepped back, muttering a prayer for the fallen.  
Zevran found a niche at the back of the room where an altar had been placed. On top of the altar stood a single helmet, emblazoned with the symbol of the Legion of the Dead. It was ancient and bore a little resemblance to the ones that Kardol and his men wore. Next to it was a large key, big enough to fit the huge doors outside. “Rosalyn, Alistair! I think this is it! The key!” He picked it up and held for them to see.  
“It looks right,” said Oghren. “But will it fit?”  
“Let’s find out,” replied Alistair as he took it and tucked it into his belt. He reached down and took Rosalyn’s hand and started for the exit. They got halfway through the room when they were attacked by a dozen undead Legionnaires that came at them from all sides. The companions formed a circle and began to hack away at all comers. Rosalyn switched to her sword and dagger and sliced everything that came near her with a savagery that Alistair had never seen her possess. When the final Legionnaire had disappeared in to the mist, he turned to her and saw the blood rage that shone from her eyes, just like he had seen at Ostagar. “Lyn?” he asked. “Lyn, love, come back to me.” He slowly reached out and took her sword from her. Zevran pulled her dagger from her other hand.   
“Well, I’ll be hung. She’s a Berserker. Never seen a rogue who could do that,” said Oghren, his admiration showing. “Hard enough for a warrior.” Slowly he reached up and put his hand on the back of her neck where her head met her neck. He made a pinching motion then began to rub the spot with his fingers. Rosalyn slowly relaxed and closed her eyes, her knees giving out. “Catch her boys,” Oghren warned as she started to slump to the floor.  
Alistair caught Rosalyn as she collapsed, picking her up in his arms and sitting down with her cradled in his lap. She moaned and slowly opened her eyes, focusing on Alistair as he bent down and kissed her forehead. “All right?” he asked.  
“What happened?” she asked, confused.  
“You went berserk again, like at Ostagar. Oghren brought you out of it.” To Oghren he asked, “What was that you did?”  
“Rubbing that spot seems to bring you out of the trance, although I had to admit I was just trying it with her. Never seen elves do that.” He scratched his head. “You mean she doesn’t know how she did it?”  
“It happened to me once too. We were at Ostagar a few months ago. A genlock conjurer cast a spell on me and I…well I wasn’t myself for a while. Later he tried it on Rosalyn and she ended up trying to kill me. Sten called it al-nasra, but I knew it was berserk. I think it’s a side effect of the taint but it’s not a feeling I want to have again.” He gently set Rosalyn down on the floor and stood up.  
“Conjurer, huh? Nasty fellows those. I could teach you to control it if it happens again. It’s simple really, but not well known. But I have a favor to ask you in return later.”  
“Fair enough. If it’s in my power to grant then you got it.” Alistair smacked the dwarf on the back and smiled, “Let’s get going.” He looked down at Rosalyn, who had managed to stand up. Zevran had been massaging her neck and shoulders, paying attention to the spot that Oghren had first shown them. “All right now love?”  
Rosalyn nodded, “I…I think so. I’m so sorry…”   
Alistair took her in his arms and held her tight. “No love, it’s this place. We’ll get to the bottom of it and you’ll be fine. Ready to go?”  
“Yes. Let’s get out of here quick.”  
They left the mausoleum and went back to the huge locked doors. Zevran fitted the key into the lock and it turned stiffly. There was a loud click and the doors came loose from the lock. It took all four of them to push the door open enough to enter. Oghren lit the torches and passed them out as they entered the next stage of their journey.

@@@@@

The wandered through curved hallways and found themselves in another large hall full of walking corpses and a Darkspawn mage, Rosalyn concentrated her fire on the mage while the others took out the corpses. It took only minutes to finish them all off. Oghren pointed to another door that entered out into another cavern tunnel that snaked around and around, each turn making Alistair and Rosalyn more nervous as they sensed a heavy presence of Darkspawn growing nearer. This presence was different than anything either had ever felt.   
Above it all was the sound of Hespith’s voice describing her horror:   
"We tried to escape, but they found us. They took us all, turned us. The men, they kill... they're merciful. But the women, they want. They want to touch, to mold, to change you until you are filled with them.”  
“Alistair?” asked Rosalyn.  
“I hear it, love,” he replied, his hand taking hers. Zevran moved to her other side and Oghren went in front of her as they slowly made their way through the cavern.  
“They took Laryn. They made her eat the others, our friends. She tore off her husband's face and drank his blood. And while she ate, she grew.”  
There was no feeling but terror in Rosalyn’s mind and body. But there was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. She drew her bow and nocked an arrow. Fighting was the only answer.  
“She swelled and turned gray and she smelled like them. They remade her in their image. Then she made more of them. Broodmother..."  
The tunnel opened up into a cavern whose walls were coated thick with Darkspawn corruption. At the back was a large female looking creature with tentacles that snaked out of its body. The smell was unlike anything they had ever smelled but the worst was that they realized that this was the long mentioned Laryn, Hespith’s friend. Now she was a Darkspawn, terrible and fierce.   
As they came closer, the broodmother attacked, shooting tentacles up out of the rock to harry them as they tried to get closer. Rosalyn found that if she stood at the back of the room, there was a rise of heavy rock that the broodmother’s tentacles were unable to penetrate. She and Zevran drew their bows and stood on the rise, shooting arrows into the creature as Alistair and Oghren attacked from close in. Rosalyn watched them both closely, running in to throw a bomb and stun the broodmother so that Alistair and Oghren could down a healing potion before charging in again.  
Halfway through the battle, Darkspawn guards ran into the cave to fight them off. Alistair and Oghren were forced to deal with this new problem, leaving Rosalyn and Zevran to finish off the broodmother. They continued to shoot arrows until she finally began to slow and stop fighting. “Help them!” Rosalyn yelled to Zevran and he drew his daggers and jumped into the fray. Rosalyn shouldered her bow and drew her sword and dagger, jumping onto the broodmother’s back and drawing her blades across its throat. The creature screamed and tried to throw her off, but could not manage. Rosalyn cut another deeper cut across her throat and with one last scream the broodmother collapsed and was still. Rosalyn let out the breath she was holding and slid off the creature’s back and hit the floor, looking up to see Alistair and Oghren finishing off the last of the Darkspawn guards.   
Hespith’s voice began to speak from above and Rosalyn looked up to see the woman standing on the rock behind what was left of Laryn, "That's where they come from. That's why they hate us... that's why they need us. That's why they take us.... that's why they feed us. But the true abomination... is not that it occurred, but that it was allowed. Branka... my love... The Stone has punished me, dream friend. I am dying of something worse than death. Betrayal." Hespith turned and threw herself into the chasm behind her, ending her life.  
Rosalyn looked down at her hands and saw the blood that was dripping onto them from above. She put her hand to her head then lowered it to look down at her palm, seeing the red blood mixing with the Darkspawn black, right before everything went dark.

@@@@@

Rosalyn opened her eyes slowly, her head pounding and vision blurry. “What…?” she asked, her voice weak sounding and scratchy.  
“Lay still, amor. Let us tend you. You have injured your head,” she heard Zevran say. His hand came up and sponged her forehead as he stroked the hair away from her face.   
She was laying on a pallet with Zevran on one side and Alistair on the other. Oghren was at her head, which was resting on his leg. He smiled as she looked up and noticed him. Alistair looked over at Zevran and they exchanged a look she knew was deep worry. Rosalyn tried to use her Warden sense to find out what they feared, but her strength was poor and she found she could not do it. “Stop that,” scolded Alistair. “Hold still.” He laid his hands on her forehead, just above her eyes. She watched him close his eyes and concentrate as healing energy flowed through his hands into her, calming and taking away her pain. Seconds later, it was gone and Alistair went very pale and slumped, drained and exhausted, as if he had just run several miles without stopping.   
“Amazing, friend Alistair. Simply amazing!” exclaimed Zevran. He examined Rosalyn’s forehead and there was no longer a wound. “She is well!”  
“Well I’ll be a nug’s uncle!” said Oghren. “Never thought they taught you chantry boys how to do that.”  
“They don’t, and they won’t be happy I know how,” replied Alistair. He took a drink of water and drank a healing potion. His color returned but he still looked tired. “Wynne thought I should know how.”  
Rosalyn sat up, the pounding in her head much reduced, but still present. Zevran put out his hand for her to hold and Oghren supported her back as she rose. When she had her bearings, Oghren and Zevran withdrew to find a spot to make camp and scout the area. Rosalyn scooted over to lean against the cavern wall, and looked over at Alistair as he sat, his strength nearly drained. “You…healed me?”  
“Yes. Wynne wanted me to learn the spell. She felt I might have enough ability to use it. Seems I do, but at a cost,” he explained.  
“But you aren’t a mage, how could you?”  
“They had me tested many times in the monastery. It’s standard for all recruits. Those with magical tendencies are sent to learn the Templar talents. I…I was one of the best, and I hated it. But that tendency is why I don’t need lyrium to be able to use the talents.”  
“That’s what Wynne meant when she asked you if you remembered what she taught you.” She smiled, “Once more I don’t know what to think around you.”  
“And I said don’t, didn’t I?”  
“You did. But I do know one thing I can think.”  
“What’s that?”  
“How about I love you and thank you.”  
Alistair chuckled and pulled her into his arms. “I’ll take it.”

@@@@@

Both Alistair and Rosalyn slept well for the first time since before they had entered Orzammar. When they awoke, they found most of their strength had returned and the Darkspawn voices nearly gone. Oghren and Zevran also noticed the change, not just in the Wardens, but in the air and themselves.  
“I can’t explain it. It’s like a huge weight has been removed from my back. I don’t feel anxious or anything now,” commented Zevran as they tore down their camp.  
Oghren agreed, “Can’t say I ever felt comfortable down here. But today it feels different to me too. Like a…whatchacallit…storm has passed us by. Let’s hope it’s a good feeling.”  
After they had broken their fast, Alistair and Rosalyn excused themselves from camp on the pretense of relieving themselves, instead going to the nearest dark corner. Alistair took her in his arms and kissed her, then held her close. “I don’t hear them anymore,” he said worriedly.  
“I don’t either. Does that mean….?” Rosalyn trailed off, terrified of what it might mean.  
“I don’t want to think about it, but I think you’re right. The Archdemon has left the underground. But where? We don’t even know where we are in relation to the world above. We could be under Orlais, the Free Marches, or Tevinter for all we know.”  
Rosalyn put her arms around him and held him tighter. “How long have we been gone now? I’ve no sense of time anymore.”  
“Oghren says it’s been nearly five days now. I have no idea how he knows that, or how he could possibly measure it. He also says that he knows a way that would get us back in just over a day if we’re fast. It’s an old tunnel used by the Legion to get to the Trenches. That gives us about a day to find Branka before the Assembly vote.”  
Rosalyn shook her head, “I don’t think we’re going to make it.” The statement was final.  
“You think we should head back?” he asked.  
“We know where she was headed, Kardol says her house is gone and there’s been no sign of anyone for miles. She must be gone. Perhaps that’s enough.”  
“We still have a day or so. We can hope Harrowmont can delay the vote through political maneuvering; he has much more support than before. I’d like to keep going unless you’re set on returning.”  
Rosalyn closed her eyes and reached out with her senses. Alistair let them pass over him, hiding nothing from her. They both reached out around them and searched the area nearby. There were no Darkspawn, no creatures; nothing. Slowly she returned to herself and nodded. “Another day then. We owe Oghren that much for what he’s done for us.”  
“Another day.” He held her face in his hands and studied her. There was fear there, but not fear of the Darkspawn or the Deep Roads. It was something else, so deep down that even his Warden senses couldn’t read it. “You’re sure?”  
“Yes.” It was a quick answer, and not convincing.  
“Then we go on.” He pulled her closer, not wanting to release her just yet. “Lyn?”  
“What is it?”  
“I’d be lost without you.”  
“I’d be lost without you too. She wrapped her arms around him and held on as if she would drown without him, finally drawing back. “We should get started.”  
Alistair sighed, not wanting to go just yet. “It’s time.” He released her and stepped back, turning to return to the campsite, “This had better be worth it,” he said as he led the way back.

@@@@@

The group wandered around for what seemed like miles, searching for a landmark or signpost that would help them find their way. Eventually they found a long tunnel that opened out into a chamber. Rosalyn’s Warden senses began to tingle, a sure sign that trouble was near. She looked over at Alistair, who nodded and drew his sword as she nocked an arrow. Oghren and Zevran brought their weapons to the ready as they entered the chamber.  
As they crossed the threshold of the entrance, there was a loud crashing and the sound of the gears turning. “What was that?” exclaimed Oghren. He didn’t have to wait long for his answer as a huge metal door slammed down from the ceiling, blocking off their exit, narrowly missing Zevran as it did.   
Alistair ran to the door to check on Zevran. “All right?”  
“That was a little too close,” he answered as he tested the door. It was solid metal, inches deep, with no hinges, locks or handles to speak of. “We aren’t getting through that anytime soon.”  
“What or who is responsible, do you think?” asked Rosalyn. She tested the door and found it solid. Opening the pouch on her belt she saw she only had a few bombs left, not nearly enough to do damage. She looked up at Alistair and shook her head.  
“Well shave my back and call me an elf! Branka? By the Stone, I barely recognized you!” Oghren was looking up at an outcropping of rock about twenty feet above them. The others looked up and saw a dwarven woman of what appeared to be late middle age, but Rosalyn guessed she was much younger than she looked. Her hair was a dark reddish brown color and shot with grey, her pale grey eyes had the look of someone who had seen too much.   
Branka’s face took on a look that was a mixture of disgust and revulsion, tinged with relief. Both Rosalyn and Alistair could sense the conflict that raged within her. “Oghren. I suppose I should have guessed you’d find your way here. You can get back just as easily then.” To Rosalyn and the others she asked, “How should I address you? Hired swords of the latest lordling to look for me or did Oghren finally find someone who didn’t mind his perpetual ale breath?”  
Oghren became angry, his blue eyes flashing red as the rage grew within him. “Be respectful of your betters, woman!” he ordered her. “These are Grey Wardens!”  
She wasn’t impressed. “Important hirelings then. So is Endrin dead? He was a wheezy and weak one at that.”   
Rosalyn stepped forward and faced her down, “His chosen successor, Harrowmont, seeks your support.”  
“Harrowmont? Tradition-bound blowhard barely tolerated by anyone. I could care less who is king because our protector, our great invention that made our armies the envy of the world is lost to the Darkspawn it should be fighting!”  
“Sounds like you could use our help,” replied Alistair as he stepped forward to stand with Rosalyn.  
Branka laughed, “You assume that after all my efforts you’d be able to just waltz in and seize the Anvil when I couldn’t?” Her eyes took on a dreamy, faraway look, “The Anvil of the Void! The means by which the ancients forged an army of golems and defeated the first Archdemon! It’s so close I can taste it! But it lies on the other side of a gauntlet of traps designed by Caridin himself. My people have given body and soul to find it and now they are all but gone.”  
“So come with us and we can locate it together. You need not do this alone,” begged Rosalyn.  
Branka continued as if she didn’t hear her, “This is what’s important. This has lasting meaning. If I succeed, the dwarven people benefit. Kings, politics…all that means nothing! I’ve given up everything and would sacrifice anything to get the Anvil!”  
“So I suppose that included Hespith and all the members of your house? She is dead, you know. She took her own life when she realized you didn’t care about her or Laryn,” replied Rosalyn.  
“Enough! If you wish me to help you, we must find the Anvil. There is only one way out, forward. Navigate Caridin’s maze and find me what I desire!”  
“She is mad!” whispered Zevran. “We can’t seriously be considering following her? It’s suicide.”  
Alistair looked down at Rosalyn, “Lyn, are you sure? Zevran is right, it could be suicide.”  
Oghren had listened to enough, “What has this done to you? I married a girl that you could talk to for one minute and see her brilliance. What have you become?”  
Branka’s eyes searched her husband’s face and for a moment her eyes softened a bit. All too quickly they turned harder. “I am your Paragon,” she answered, disappearing behind the rock face, leaving them alone.

@@@@@

If Rosalyn and her companions had thought that this gauntlet would prove as easy as the last one they had navigated while searching for the Urn of Sacred Ashes, they were terribly wrong. What followed were poison gas chambers, golems and too many locked doors and traps to count. After each trap they overcame, they would hear the maniacal laughter of Branka, somewhere over their heads, cheering them on. “You’d think she’d at least help us a little,” remarked a sarcastic and disgusted Alistair.   
Hours later, they found themselves making their way through a narrow tunnel that seemed to open up into a large, well lit chamber. Alistair put out a hand and stopped Rosalyn before they left the tunnel. “We should stop for a bit.” He coughed violently and spat. “I can’t get my breath and neither can Zevran. It’s that gas.” He put down his pack and took out his water skin, drawing a long drink, coughing again.   
“You’re right; I could use one myself. If what we’ve seen is any indication, that chamber will prove harder still.” She sat down next to him as he handed her the skin. Rummaging through his pack, he pulled out two healing potions; handing one to Zevran, who sat down on Rosalyn’s other side. “I only have one left now,” he said. “How many do you have?”  
“I have one,” she answered. “What about you two?” she asked Zevran and Oghren.  
“I’m out,” said Zevran.  
Oghren rummaged through his pack, “Six.”  
“Six? How do you have six?” asked Alistair.  
The dwarf took a long draw from his flask, offering it to Zevran, who shrugged and turned up his nose, but took it anyway. “Didn’t know what they were. I just thought they were bottles of ale, nasty tasting ale at that. You want them?”  
Rosalyn laughed, “Drink one now to make sure you’re well and give me the rest. Next time I think I’ll let you carry them all so we always have them.” Alistair and Zevran laughed with her, greatly reducing the tension inside them. “Let’s rest for a few hours. We will need that energy.” She snuggled down between Alistair and Zevran, laying her head on Alistair’s shoulder.   
Alistair bent down and kissed the top of her head, taking her hand in his. “I’m all for that. Oghren, do you mind first watch? Wake me in a couple hours and I’ll take over.”  
Oghren smiled a rare, warm smile. “No worries. You three sleep. I promise I’ll keep it to a minimum. Think I’ll need all the sobriety I can get soon. Sleep well.” Alistair smiled back and closed his eyes.  
A few hours later, they were awake, fed, and rested and heading into the chamber that lay before them. It was the worst yet.  
A huge pylon stood on a raised platform in the center of the room, laughing faces carved from stone mounted on it. Large anvils, like those used by smiths were sitting in front of each carved face on the edge of the platform. Zevran put his hands out and stopped Rosalyn and Alistair, “A trap,” he warned. “Stay.” They stood where they were as he walked around the perimeter of the pylon, wary of getting too close. There was a door inset in the far wall on the opposite side of the chamber.   
“Can you pick it?” asked Alistair as he pointed to the door. Zevran slowly walked towards the door, getting a few feet from it when there was the sound of gears turning and what sounded like a huge bolt being drawn. The pylon began to move in a circle, the stone faces lighting up. Each face flashed and a ghostly figure of a dwarven warrior appeared in front of each anvil. “Mierda!” cried Zevran as the nearest warrior attacked him. “I could use a little help here!” Zevran yelled.   
Rosalyn, Alistair and Oghren rushed to Zevran’s side, keeping a wary eye on the other ghosts. The four of them attacked the ghost warrior, wearing it down and finishing it off. As soon as the warrior disappeared, one of the anvils began to glow and a second warrior attacked. Rosalyn ran to the anvil and touched it and a single large bolt of energy shot from the anvil and hit the stone face in front of it, smashing it to pieces. “That’s it!” she yelled. “Kill the ones in front of the working faces then touch the anvil when it glows!” She ran to join the nearest fray.  
Periodically the ghostly warriors would disappear and the pylon would spin again, stopping to spew out more ghosts in front of the anvils. The companions would attack the nearest ones first and destroy them, then back out and wait for the pylon to shift. By waiting for the shift, they were able to conserve their strength. Finally, the last warrior was dispatched and the pylon began to creak and groan, bright light emanating from the bottom to the top as it ground to a halt and was still.  
And above it all, was the sound of Branka’s laughter. “Well done,” she said.

@@@@@

The door Zevran had found was open when they approached it, leading into a small hallway that curved to the right and ended at a doorway to an immense chamber, larger than any they had encountered so far. There were no doors to open and the way appeared to be clear. Neither Rosalyn nor Alistair could sense anything wrong, so the group entered the chamber slowly, weapons at the ready.  
Golems were scattered throughout the room, some in obvious stages of disrepair and decay. At the center of the room stood a single golem, taller and larger than the others, obviously of greater importance. As they approached this larger golem, it spoke, the voice seeming to come from all around them. “I am Caridin. Once, longer ago than I care to think, I was a Paragon to the dwarves of Orzammar. If you seek the Anvil, you must hear my story or be doomed to relive it.”  
“You are the Caridin of Caridin’s Cross?” asked Rosalyn.  
“Yes. I have made many things in my time but my fame is tied to a single item: the Anvil of the Void. With it I could forge a man of steel or stone, clever as any soldier. They were an invincible army but no one knew at what cost. No one smith has the power to create life and to make the golems live; I had to take those lives from elsewhere.”  
Alistair was appalled as he considered what Caridin was saying, “A dire shortcut, ser. Was it worth it?”  
“I had only intended to use volunteers, but my king was not satisfied…and soon a river of blood flowed out of this place. When it became too much, I refused to continue so King Valtor had me put on the Anvil next.”  
“So what do you want? Revenge?” asked Rosalyn.  
Caridin shook his huge head, “No. The blow of the hammer opened my eyes. My apprentices knew enough to make me as I am but they had not the knowledge to fashion a control rod so I have retained my mind. I have sought a way to destroy the Anvil but I cannot as no golem can touch it.”  
“Are you asking us to destroy it?” Alistair questioned.  
“NO! The Anvil is mine!” screamed Branka as she ran into the room. “No one will take it from me!”  
“You!” Caridin cried out in a voice of anguish. “Please!” he asked fervently, “help me destroy it! Do not let her have it!”  
“How do we destroy it?” asked Rosalyn quickly.  
“Don’t listen to him! He’s been trapped here for a thousand years, stewing in his own madness. Help me and you will have an army to fight the Darkspawn as you have never seen!” Branka pleaded.  
Oghren turned to his wife, “Branka, you mad, bleeding nug-tail! Does this thing mean so much that you can’t see all you’ve lost to get it?” His voice held all the emotion he had been holding back during the days they had spent looking for her and before.  
“Is this what our empire is supposed to look like? Crumbling tunnels filled with Darkspawn spume? We can take back our glory!”  
Alistair had moved to Rosalyn’s side during this exchange. Looking down at her, he probed with his senses to gauge her emotions. Finding what he wanted, he nodded to her and turned to Caridin, “The Anvil enslaves living souls and it must be destroyed.”  
Zevran had been listening to the exchange and decided to speak. “Living souls suffer all the time. Peasants working the land are trapped, but we do not go about destroying farmland, do we?”  
“And farmers don’t toil in the fields for all eternity. That’s hardly a comparison!” snapped Alistair.  
“It just seems we are wasting an opportunity here given what it can do.”  
Alistair looked to Rosalyn. He sensed her indecision. The Anvil was a powerful weapon to use in their fight, but the whole concept of using unwilling souls as a means to their end was abhorrent. She looked up at him and made her decision. Looking at Zevran she asked, “So are you willing to become the first golem?”  
“I never said that. Don’t be unreasonable.”  
“That is what you are asking us to be. You don’t want to be a golem?”  
“All right, all right. Destroying it is the best idea. Let’s do it.” He muttered curses under his breath.  
Caridin took a step towards her, “Thank you. Your compassion shames me.”  
Branka reached into her coat and pulled out a long tubular piece of metal. “You aren’t the only master smith here Caridin! Golems!” she screamed, “Obey me! Attack them!”  
A flick of a switch on the rod brought the golems to life, yet while she had control of some of them, she did not control them all. “Friends! Help me! Attack!” yelled Caridin.  
Those golems that were not under Branka’s control came to life and attacked the others, leaving Branka alone to face the four of them. She was a formidable fighter, having learned much in her years in the Deep Roads. Rosalyn set herself up on the outside of the large circle and began to hit her with arrows as fast as she could, digging into her depleted store of poisons. Alistair and Oghren harried Branka to keep her busy while the golems attacked each other. Zevran stayed close to Rosalyn, keeping stray golems away from her so she could continue to shoot.   
Branka began to wear down and managed to run from Alistair and Oghren, drawing power from the wells of lyrium that jutted up from the cavern floor. She regained strength each time she found one and was becoming harder to beat. “The lyrium wells! Step on them and draw their power away from her!” Rosalyn yelled to Zevran. He ran from well to well, using the stored energy, making it harder for Branka to find one to recharge her strength. In the end she was forced to meet them face to face, something she could not do, finally falling from the swing of her husband’s axe. “Forgive me, wife,” Oghren told her as he brought the axe down, severing her head from her shoulders. Alistair staggered back and watched the head hit the ground and roll away, the pale grey eyes gone lifeless.

@@@@@

Rosalyn ran to Alistair and he embraced her, staggering and going to his knees as she noticed the blood running down the side of his breastplate. “She got me with her dagger,” he said weakly.  
“Zevran help me!” she cried. Reaching into her pockets, she could find nothing to staunch the wound so she quickly searched his pack and grabbed a piece of white cotton sticking out of a small pocket in the side of his pack. She stuck the cloth into the space where the wound was and applied pressure as Zevran unbuckled Alistair’s breast plate and arm guard, removing them and tossing them aside. Oghren was behind Alistair, using his strength to ease him to the ground and onto his side so they could see the wound. Alistair moaned as they found the spot and cut away his shirt to reveal the hole just below his last rib.   
Rosalyn pushed harder against the wound, trying to stop the blood, but was unable to stop it completely. “I can’t stop it Zevran! What do I do?” she cried, tears streaming down her face. “Stay with me Alistair, please love!” she begged him as he began to lose consciousness.   
Hands grabbed her shoulders and pulled her away, and Oghren took her place next to him. “Hold him still,” he commanded Zevran. The elf held Alistair’s arms away from the wound and tilted him towards him, exposing the wound to Oghren. “Have him bite this,” he said as he handed a leather strap to Zevran, who placed it between Alistair’s teeth.   
Caridin was there, holding a gleaming, white hot knife. Oghren took the knife and put it to Alistair’s wound, searing the flesh around the cut as Zevran helped hold him down. The smell of burning flesh and hair was overwhelming as Alistair screamed from the pain and passed out. Rosalyn rushed to his head and put her finger on the pulse at his neck, crying out when she couldn’t find it. “Alistair! Please come back! I need you! Please!” she begged, shaking him. Suddenly the pulse was there, weak but steady. “Praise the Maker!” she cried as she kissed his cheek. Zevran poured healing potion onto the wound and dressed it, muttering a prayer of thanks as he did.  
“He’s a strong one, he is,” remarked Oghren as he cleaned the now cool dagger. “Not many could stand that and live.” He patted Alistair’s shoulder lightly. “I’ve got your back, son.” He stood up, cleaned and sheathed the dagger, then placed his hand on Rosalyn’s head, stroking her hair lightly. “He will sleep for a while. You should rest too. I will watch over him.” Rosalyn shook head but Zevran took her hand and helped her up.   
He led her to a rock nearby and drew her down against him, holding her tightly as she cried. When she had spent all her tears, she fell asleep in his arms and he watched over her as she slept as Oghren watched over Alistair. Caridin watched over them all and for a while there was some peace.  
Hours later, Zevran roused Rosalyn from a sound sleep with some food and water. “Wake and eat, my dear,” he encouraged. She sat up and took a drink of water from the skin and looked over to Alistair’s still form.   
“He is…?” She closed her eyes, afraid of the answer.  
“Alistair is sleeping, amor. He will be fine soon. Come, eat, he will need your strength,” Zevran replied. He smiled and chuckled as she tore into the food.   
When she had finished, she was at Alistair’s side, stroking his hair as he slept. She smiled as she saw the corners of his mouth come up into a smile. “You aren’t fooling anyone,” she whispered, laughing softly.  
“I know, but I got you alone, didn’t I?” he said, his voice hoarse from the screaming he’d done. “Drink?”  
She tipped the skin up and squeezed some water into his mouth as he drank slowly then coughed. “Easy,” she warned, holding his head up to keep him from choking. She looked down and spied a bloody piece of white cloth and picked it up, looking at it, then tucked it into her pocket, and turned back to him.  
“I think maybe I need to sit up,” he said. She put her arms under his shoulders and helped him lift himself to a seated position, leaning against a rock. “Ugh! That wasn’t pleasant!” he exclaimed as he coughed. When he recovered, he turned to look at her, his gaze steady and soft. “I…I was gone, you know.”  
Rosalyn’s eyes grew wide, “Gone? As in…?” She trailed off as she contemplated the enormity of what he was telling her.  
“Finished, dead,” he replied, taking her hand in his. “But I couldn’t go. Something drew me back and I heard your voice calling me. ‘Please come back, I need you,’ you called. I had to come back. Thank you for that.”  
“What was it like?” she asked, suddenly in awe of this man she loved so much.   
“I’m not really sure but it was peaceful and calm. A good place to be, I think.” He took her hand in his and held it tightly, “I do know one thing for sure, though.”  
“What’s that?” she asked.  
Alistair looked off into the distance as if only he could see something out there, “When the time comes, I won’t be afraid to die as long as you are with me.” Rosalyn laid her head on his good shoulder and watched with him.

@@@@@

Caridin stood over the body of Branka with Oghren. They spoke in the dwarven tongue as they looked down. Finally Oghren nodded and Caridin picked the body up and threw it off the cliff face into the lava river below, picking up Branka’s head and throwing it after. “Another life lost because of my invention. I wish it had been forgotten as it should have been.”  
“You ain’t kidding. Stupid woman! Always knew the Anvil would kill her,” he replied looking down at the lava below.   
“At least it ends here.” Caridin looked over at Rosalyn who had joined them at the cliff’s edge. “I thank you for standing with me, stranger. The Anvil waits there for you to shatter it. Is there any boon I could grant you before I am freed from my burden?”  
Rosalyn looked up at the huge stone man and said, “I need a Paragon’s support to settle an election for king.”  
The large stone eyes shone with a new light and purpose, “For your aid, I will go to the forge one last time and give you a crown for the king of your choice.” His steps were heavy as he walked to the Anvil, picked up a hammer and began to work.   
Rosalyn checked on Alistair, forcing him to drink another healing potion, drawing his head down to her lap so he would sleep as she watched Caridin forge the crown for Harrowmont. Zevran and Oghren took the time to eat and rest before the long and hard journey home.   
At last Caridin was finished and presented her with the crown. “It is done. Give it to whom you will. I have already lived too far beyond my time. I have no place here.”  
“I will destroy the Anvil as I promised,” Rosalyn said. Caridin handed her his hammer, which was light enough for her to wield, and she walked up to the Anvil as it stood on the platform where it had been for a thousand years. She raised the hammer and struck down as Caridin bade, shattering the Anvil into small pieces. As an added measure, she and Oghren threw as many pieces as they could find into the lava river below to insure it would never be found.  
When they had finished, she joined Caridin at the top of the rise the overlooked the lava river. “You have my eternal thanks, stranger. Atrast nal tunsha…may you always find your way in the dark.”  
“Maker and Ancestors keep you, Caridin,” she said. He nodded and threw himself off the cliff, plunging into the lava below. Rosalyn murmured a prayer and slowly turned to look down the rise at Alistair, who was saying a prayer himself. She turned back and looked down to be sure he was gone then joined her companions.  
“We should get going, that king isn’t going to elect himself,” said Oghren, eager to go. “Chantry boy here can keep up now.”  
“Let’s get out of here,” Alistair agreed. Zevran had found an old sword that Alistair was able to use as a cane to help himself along as he walked, putting less strain on his side.   
“Led the way, Oghren,” she ordered, smiling as she did. He laughed and headed towards a new exit they hadn’t seen before.   
As they were walking out the door, Rosalyn looked over to the side and noticed a large piece of stone inset into the wall of the cavern. It was covered in carvings that looked like dwarven writing. “Oghren? What is this?”  
He joined her and looked at the stone carefully. “It’s a long list of dwarven names. Hold on…’We honor those who have made this sacrifice, let their names be remembered.’ It’s a memorial to all the dwarves who became golems. Caridin must have made this to remember them. If we could get this back to the Shaperate, there would be a reward.”  
Alistair rummaged through his pack and pulled out a stack of paper and a piece of lead. “I was using this to write my journal, but I’ve forgotten to write in it so many times, it’s a hopeless cause. Take it.”  
Rosalyn took the paper and made a tracing of all the names as Oghren copied them onto other sheets for a second copy. Zevran boosted her up for the higher names. “Done,” she said as Zevran lowered her down. “Let’s get back to the Assembly while a king is still of use to us.”  
“You ain’t kidding. They’ve been trying to finish us off for years, and I’d rather not give them a chance now. Let’s go,” replied Oghren as he led the way out of the cavern and back to Orzammar.

Orzammar

The journey took a little over a day and a half and they returned to an Orzammar that was in chaos. Most of the inhabitants had locked themselves in their homes and businesses to hide from the gangs of supporters that roamed the streets. Alistair and Rosalyn took Oghren to the Assembly building while Zevran went to find Soris and Leliana at the house where they had stayed before they left for the Deep Roads. “Have them pack up and meet us here as soon as they can. We’re getting out of here as soon as this is settled.”  
“Good. Not soon enough for me,” Zevran agreed and took off on his errand.  
The streets in the Diamond Quarter were nearly deserted as they made their way to the Assembly Hall. Inside the arguing continued as the city fell apart around them.   
“Lords of the Assembly, I call for order! This argument gets us nowhere!” yelled the steward.  
Harrowmont took the opportunity to speak his mind to Bhelen, “Your father made me swear on his deathbed you would not succeed him. I intend to honor that wish.”  
Alistair approached the page that stood by the door and whispered to him. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his father’s ring, placing it on his finger. He was still leaning on the old sword so he propped it against the wall and stood up straight, following the page into the Assembly Hall, Rosalyn and Oghren following. Oghren was carrying the crown forged by Caridin.  
The page took the first lull in the conversation to announce them, “My lord steward, Prince Alistair of Ferelden and the Grey Warden Rosalyn have returned.”  
Harrowmont smiled a relieved smile at them as they stepped forward, “What news do you bring, your highness?”  
Alistair looked down at Rosalyn, who nodded and stepped forward. “We bear a crown from the Paragon Caridin for his chosen king.”  
Oghren took over as they had planned on the journey home. “Caridin was trapped in the body of a golem. The Wardens granted him the mercy he sought, releasing him and destroying the Anvil of the Void.” There were numerous gasps as they comprehended what he was telling them. “Before he died, he forged a crown for Orzammar’s next king, chosen by the ancestors themselves.”  
“Are we supposed to believe this drunken sot, pretend prince, and supposed Grey Warden, all known to be in Harrowmont’s pocket?” asked a furious Bhelen.  
“Silence!” commanded the steward. “This crown is of Caridin’s make and bears his ancient seal. Who did Caridin choose?”  
Alistair stepped up and announced their choice, “Caridin chose Harrowmont.”  
Harrowmont stepped forward and faced them, accepting the crown. “I appreciate your forthrightness, Wardens and Oghren. You have acted with grace through this entire process when I know you had only the concerns of the entire world on your minds. Thank you.”  
Bhelen drew his sword, “No! I will not abide by this!”  
“The ancestors have spoken!” yelled one deshyr.  
“You would let a surfacer decide the fate of the dwarves?” Bhelen demanded. He signaled for his men to approach.  
The deshyr drew his mace, “Watch out! They have weapons!”  
Harrowmont called the guards as Bhelen and his henchmen attacked the deshyrs. Rosalyn and Oghren drew their weapons and moved to Harrowmont’s side to aid in his defense. Alistair was still too weak to attack with a sword so he drew Rosalyn’s bow and began to shoot at will from the top of the steps. Bhelen fought hard but soon was overcome by their strength. Oghren finished him with a blow to the head and he lay on the Assembly floor in a pool of blood.  
With Bhelen dead, Harrowmont looked down and shook his head, “I did not think even he would defy the word of a Paragon or that so many would follow him. Orzammar knows him for what he was, I will not leave this uprising unpunished, you can be sure.” He fingered the crown they had given him and slowly put it on. “Those loyal to the crown will begin preparations for a surface mission. We will honor our treaties.”  
“Thank you, King Harrowmont. It is my country’s hope that your rule will mark a new era for Orzammar,” said Alistair, offering his hand as a sign of friendship to the new king. Harrowmont took the hand and shook it gladly.  
“If you will excuse us, your highness, we must return to the surface and prepare for battle. Our task is not finished. Have your troops meet us at Redcliffe Castle. Maker watch over you all,” Alistair said, bowing as he led the way out of the chamber. He stopped long enough to get the sword he’d been using as a cane and left the building, muttering, “Let’s get out of here before I use this on someone.” Rosalyn smiled and Oghren laughed as they followed him out.

@@@@@

Outside the Assembly hall they found Soris and Leliana waiting for them. “Looking good, cuz,” said Soris as he hugged her. “I was getting worried.” Soris clasped Alistair’s shoulder and he smiled weakly at him.  
“I see you made it,” Soris told Zevran, shaking his hand.  
“And only barely,” Zevran answered, smiling. He gave Leliana a kiss on the lips, “Ahhh! So nice to see you, my dear,” he whispered. Soris’ eyes narrowed at the assassin’s boldness as Leliana blushed.  
“What happened to you?” Leliana asked Alistair.  
He leaned in and kissed her cheek as she hugged him. “I almost lost a fight and I’m so ready to get out of here. Let’s go.” Leliana looked sideways at Rosalyn, who shrugged and followed him, Soris and Zevran in tow. “Oh, this is Oghren, he’s been a great help to us.”  
“A pleasure,” Oghren replied gruffly. “I’ll get these records to the Shaperate.” He took off down the steps, returning a few minutes later with a bag he handed to Rosalyn. “The reward.”  
“You keep it Oghren. It’s the least we can do. Use it to start anew,” she said. He nodded his thanks and pocketed the money.  
As they headed down the steps of the Assembly Hall, they ran into Kardol of the Legion of the Dead who was waiting for them. “Congratulations, Grey Wardens. We have a king and a new frontline in the Deep Roads, all thanks to you.”  
“Then we can count on you to help us in our fight?” asked Rosalyn.  
“Nay, we’ll keep the fight down here. I don’t need any of my men losing their stone sense up topside.”  
“We could really use any help you can give us,” Alistair added.  
Kardol thought for a moment, and then answered, “You alone have the ability to back up your words with actions. My men will join you but its back to the Orzammar when we’re through.”  
“We look forward to fighting with you. We’ll see you at Redcliffe,” Rosalyn replied, shaking his hand before following the others out of the Diamond Quarter to the Commons.   
“Would we be able to stop by Tapsters so I can pick up some things? I promise that’s all I need,” Oghren asked.  
Alistair agreed, “I could use a drink.” He led the way in and stopped at the bar, ordering a whiskey and four glasses of wine for himself, Rosalyn, Zevran, Leliana and Soris.   
“A little early isn’t it?” Leliana asked Rosalyn. “And whiskey at that?”  
“I think we can let that pass. He needs it,” was all she said as she drank the wine he had handed her. “I’ll tell you later,” she whispered and Leliana nodded.   
Alistair sipped the whiskey quickly, wincing at its taste and quality. His eyes had a far off look as he slowly drank, like he was seeing things that no one else could. Rosalyn leaned in and took his hand in hers, stroking it softly. He looked down at their joined hands, pondering them for a moment before he spoke softly, “Oghren wants to come with us.”  
“And he knows what that means, doesn’t he? He won’t be able to return,” she said.  
“He knows. I told him yes.”  
“All right. I have no problem with that. I like him. He saved your life.”  
“All of our lives.”  
Rosalyn nodded and took a sip of wine. She reached into her pocket and pulled out the scroll she’d been keeping there for the last week. “Why didn’t you tell me you were a bann?”  
“I suppose I can’t say you never asked,” he answered halfheartedly.  
“That won’t due this time. Why?”  
He sighed, “I never accepted the title or the lands but they are registered to me. They were a gift from my father on my sixteenth nameday. He wanted me to be able to make my own way and thought this would be the best solution. They were dower lands from Queen Rowan when they married. A small holding on the coast between Highever and Waking Sea, called White Cliffs. I’ve never been there. Teagan administers it for me.”  
“Why haven’t you been there?”  
“Grey Wardens don’t have titles, Lyn. Most of us give up our surnames and families when we join. I’d never be able to live there.”  
“I suppose you wouldn’t at that.” She took another sip, “Why give it to me and Soris?”  
He smiled then, “So you can have that place you want, where you can be free. Soris needs that too. I want your father to be my steward and run the place. My steward wants to retire. It will be Soris’ property and title when I’m gone. Eamon took care of it for me while I was there.”  
“I don’t know what to say. When can we go see it?”  
“Today,” he answered. “Zevran and Oghren will go on with messages for Eamon and Teagan. You and I, Soris and Leliana will go to White Cliffs. We’ll have a few days before we have to go back to Redcliffe. Time for us, love.”  
“Let’s go,” was all she said.

White Cliffs

They parted ways with Oghren and Zevran at the outside entrance to Orzammar. Bodahn had set up shop with the other merchants at the gates and greeted them warmly when he saw them. “I am so glad you have returned whole and well,” he said, smiling. “And I took care of that matter for you and the Lady Wynne.” She smiled and kissed his cheek.  
“Thank you from both of us,” she said.  
Rosalyn and Alistair bid Oghren and Zevran goodbye, telling Bodahn to keep an eye on Oghren as he had never been out of Orzammar before. The merchant agreed to watch him and deliver the messages they had for Eamon and Teagan. With that business finished they took the north road and headed towards the coast and White Cliffs, a journey of a day and a half.  
That night, they set up camp beside a small pond and headed to bed early. Alistair was ravenous for Rosalyn, taking her almost as soon as they entered their tent. She let him have his way as there was desperation in his love, an immense sadness that she could feel in him. He made love to her as if it was the last time, over and over. The Deep Roads had changed him and she feared what that change might mean for him and for her. When he was finally spent, he held her close, stroking her hair and murmuring endearments to her until they slept.   
In the morning they started anew, arriving at White Cliffs in time for midday meal. Teagan had sent a message for the current steward to expect them and rooms had been prepared. The house was small but richly furnished and well kept; the grounds well cared for, with a large kitchen and flower garden. The estate was a central location for trade in the area and depended on fishing and horse breeding for additional income. Rosalyn knew her father would be pleased with its management and potential.  
Alistair was knowledgeable about the estate and its workings despite having never been there. “Teagan consults me when he can so I can keep track of everything. I think he feels like I need to know even though I never cared what he did with it. He has done well though.” Rosalyn was pleased he was taking such an interest after his days of quiet and depression.   
Evening meal was a comfortable affair with the four of them eating in the small dining room off the kitchen. Leliana found a lute and sang and played for them as they drank wine after dinner. Alistair was quiet, listening to her songs as he walked the veranda that overlooked the sea. Rosalyn watched him and tried to gauge his feelings. He threw up blocks and she tried harder, finally causing him to set his wine glass down and stomp off down the stairs to the garden below. She smiled at his reaction, realizing he was still himself in many ways.   
Leliana watched the exchange with interest, coming to stand by Rosalyn as she watched Alistair walk through the garden. “What’s with him?” she asked.  
“A lot happened down there, Leliana. He…he died down there,” she answered, her voice choking. “Somehow he came back and he’s been like that ever since. He thinks he’s lost control of everything and he dreads where he’s going. He’s so unhappy and doesn’t want to be king.”  
“So what does he want?” she asked.  
Rosalyn sighed, “I don’t know. He’s so convinced that he won’t be happy that he hasn’t ever told me. I think he just wants to be a Warden…with me.” She thought for a moment then turned to her. “Can you keep Soris busy tonight? I need some time alone with Alistair and no disruptions.”  
“That shouldn’t be hard. We already have plans.”  
“I wondered about you two,” she laughed. “He’s an eager one, I’m told.”  
“Indeed. I’ll tell the steward that you aren’t to be disturbed. What is your plan?”  
“I think it’s time I found out some things about the man I love and show him some others.” Leliana smiled and hugged her before retiring to the dining room to find Soris. Rosalyn set down her glass and followed Alistair’s path to the garden.

@@@@@

She found him at the edge of the garden where the stairs to the beach were. He stood at the top of the stairs, leaning on the gate. Rosalyn stood in the shadows and watched him, sending out her senses to read his mood. He didn’t fight this time, instead shaking his head in disgust, saying, “Stop it. You know I hate it when you do that. Say what you came to say.”  
“I was wondering if you would like to go for a walk,” she said quietly. “I haven’t seen the beach.”  
He turned around and looked down at her, surprised. “A walk? That’s all?”  
“That’s all.” She held out her hand for him to take. “Is that so terrible?”  
He smiled slightly, “No, it isn’t.” He took her hand and opened the gate that led to the beach. The moon was full and they needed no torches to find their way down the steps to the sand below. Rosalyn stopped at the bottom step and sat down, removing her boots and socks and setting them aside before rolling up her breeches and walking barefoot out into the sand.   
Alistair watched her as she picked up rocks and shells, looking at them with all the excitement of a child. It hadn’t dawned on him that she had never actually been to the beach before. There were no real beaches near Denerim as the coast was so rocky and her fear of water would have prevented her from going if there were. He smiled to himself as she gasped over a particular shell, stuffing it into her pocket to keep. Finally he sat down on the step and removed his boots and socks, and rolled his breeches up. He stood and watched her again as she ventured to the water slowly, letting her feet get wet. She turned to look at him and gasped, “It’s warm!” He smiled again at her reaction, joining her at the surf’s edge.  
“The tide’s out,” he told her. “That’s why it’s so calm right now. The Waking Sea has a current that comes from the northern climes near Tevinter, they say. That’s why it’s so warm.” She bent down and picked up a piece of wood that had washed on shore. “Lime wood,” he said, looking down at it. “Not from Ferelden.”  
“So it could be from the Free Marches, Tevinter or even Par Vollen?” she asked, amazed.  
“It could. The current carried it here from a long way away. Too cold to grow it here.”   
Rosalyn smiled and threw it back into the sea. “It should travel some more.” She looked up at him, studying his face, finally asking, “Who are you, Alistair?”  
He was taken aback, “What do you mean?”  
“Who are you? It’s a simple question.”  
“I don’t know.”  
“Who do you want to be? You’ve surely thought about it. Everyone does at some time in their lives.”  
He reached down and picked up a rock as he pondered the answer. “I have.” He threw the rock into the sea.  
“So what do you want to be?”  
“An ordinary man, but I know I can never be one. It’s not in the stars and never was.” He paused and looked out over the sea, “I want to be a Warden, fighting Darkspawn and traveling the world…with you. That’s it.”  
“That’s it?” she asked.  
“That’s it. But I don’t know if I can. Too many people want me to be anything but that.”  
“To blazes with them! It’s your life, Alistair. Be what you want.”  
“What I want?” he asked, surprised.  
“What you want,” she answered. “Start now.”  
“Is it really that simple?”  
“Yes. We’ll make it that simple.”  
He thought for a moment then made his decision, “So be it then,” he said as he took her in his arms, “Now.” He kissed her then, soft and tender, holding her tightly against him. “Still remember how to swim?” he asked mischievously.  
“I think I need another lesson,” she replied as she pulled the ties on her shirt and breeches. “Show me,” she said, and he did, over and over.

@@@@@

Teagan had ridden all day and evening and wasn’t happy about it. The weather was warm but he’d ridden most of the way in the rain, slogging through the mud. Even his horse was cranky as they entered the courtyard of White Cliffs. He should have known this is where they were before the elf had given him the letter. In the eight years he’d owned the place, Alistair had never expressed any interest in it and now it had become his refuge. Leave it to Alistair to make even the simplest thing hard.  
Despite the late hour, a servant ran to meet him, “Good evening, my lord,” he said pleasantly. “Is everything all right?” he asked concerned.  
“Just fine Peter, thank you. I’m here for Ser Alistair and the Lady Rosalyn. Are they abed?”  
Peter’s face took on an embarrassed look. “Not exactly, my lord. But I’m told they are fine. They were last seen on the beach near the stairs. Aggie just took down some blankets to ward off the chill. They…they don’t seem interested in going to bed, my lord.”  
Teagan laughed, remembering how he was with his first love. “Very well. Get me a room and a bath, please, Peter. And some food, if you will. Just bring it to my room. Tell Ser Alistair I’m here when he comes up for air.”  
“Yes, my lord. I’ll see to it myself. Your regular room is ready for you and I’ll bring the bath.” Peter rushed to take the horse to the stable, leaving Teagan in the hallway. He walked up the stairs to his room, stopping at the first door as he heard noises from inside. He took a step back as he realized what they were and quickly entered his own room. Clearly White Cliffs was having its usual effect on its guests. He’d brought more than one lover here himself over the years as there was something about the atmosphere that was both comfortable and romantic. Maric had told both he and Eamon the same when he gifted the property to Alistair. The king had even admitted that Cailan was conceived during a holiday there.  
He walked out onto the veranda that wound around the back of the house and overlooked the sea. The wind was light and warm, the tide was out. Teagan took a deep breath and looked out at the sea below and dreaded what he had to do tomorrow. Eamon was a bear when he got going and Alistair and Rosalyn’s refusal to return to Redcliffe after they had finished at Orzammar was not setting well with him. “Selfish, uncaring boy!” yelled Eamon. “I won’t stand for it! Go get him now!” he had ordered. Teagan had nodded and sighed, and left to do his brother’s bidding.  
Laughter floated up from below and Teagan realized that it was Alistair’s. He hadn’t figured on being able to see, much less hear them as they frolicked on the beach below, but it seemed he could. Alistair had Rosalyn by the waist and lifted her effortlessly out of the water and threw her forward in front of him. She squealed and landed with a splash, spitting water. They laughed as they swam together, stopping to embrace and kiss frequently. Teagan smiled, and then frowned a bit when he noticed they were nude and their kissing was becoming more than just kissing. He turned away and entered the room, closing the drapes behind him. “They should have this night,” he thought. “It may be their last.”   
A knock at the door disturbed his reverie as Peter entered with one of the younger servants, bearing the large bathtub and buckets of water. Aggie, the cook’s girl, followed with a large tray of food and drink that she set on the side table. “There is still no sign of Ser Alistair and the Lady Rosalyn,” apologized Peter.   
“Never mind, Peter. I found them. They are…busy. I’ll see them in the morning. Just leave everything and go to bed. You can clean up tomorrow,” Teagan told them. “Oh, Peter,” he said as an afterthought, “Would Lana happen to be nearby?”  
Peter smiled, knowing exactly what the bann meant. “I’ll send her up immediately to take care of your washing, my lord. Ring if you need anything else.” Peter and the other servants bowed and left the room.   
Teagan laughed and sliced himself some cheese and poured a glass of ale. He pushed open the drapes and walked back out onto the veranda. The laughter was gone, replaced with the sound of the wind and the sea. Alistair and Rosalyn were nowhere in sight, not doubt making use of the blankets that had been left for them. He laughed to himself again, thinking about Lana, the laundry girl. He’d passed more than a pleasant hour in her company while visiting in the past. Smiling wickedly, he took a long draw of ale and went back into his room, planning to take advantage of all White Cliffs had to offer.

@@@@@

The sun had started to light the horizon as Rosalyn opened her eyes. She stretched and turned into Alistair, who pulled her closer. The early morning breeze brushed over her hair, bringing it across her cheek. She pushed it away, kissed her lover and sat up, looking out over the beach to the sea.   
It had been a long and wonderful night. They had swum in the ocean for hours, diving for rocks and shells and Alistair had showed her how to dig for clams in the sand. In between they had found new ways to enjoy each other as well as the water. A fact that was demonstrated by the amount of sand she felt in every nook and cranny of her body and hair. Looking down at Alistair, she smiled as he snorted in his sleep, wiping his hand across his cheek. Feeling the sand he had just brushed over his face, he sputtered and spat as Rosalyn broke out into giggles.  
“Did you forget where you were?” she asked when she had calmed down.  
“Ha!” he retorted. “Just wait until you try to comb your hair.” He sat up and shook his head violently, sand flying every which way.   
“Stop that!” Rosalyn complained, brushing off her mouth as he laughed. “I have enough, thank you. Everywhere.”  
Alistair reached down and scratched his stomach, looking farther down his body as he did. “Ugh! Me too. Let’s go clean off so we can get something to eat. I’m starved.” He stood up and walked to the water.  
Rosalyn watched him, marveling at the change in him since the day before. All his life he had been told what to be, where to be and who to be. A chance to make that decision himself was the best thing that had ever happened to him and she would see he enjoyed it. If the fates declared he would be king, it would be by his decision and his alone. She could live with that.  
She joined him in the surf, letting the waves wash the sand and grit from her body. The tide had reversed in the night and she was forced to stay close to Alistair for fear of washing away. He never let her go far, making sure she followed him when he exited the water. Without towels to dry them off, and the blankets covered in sand, they stood on the shore in each other’s arms and let the wind dry them as they watched the sun rise. “Beautiful,” he said, not looking at the sky.  
“Happy?” she asked, looking up at him.  
“More than happy. I could stay here forever with you.”  
“But you know we can’t.”  
“I know. It’s a dream, but I do have this.” He bent down and kissed her, holding her tighter. “The best dream ever. We’ll come back when this is all done and I’ll lose our clothes for a week or two.”  
Rosalyn smiled at the thought of a week in his arms and looked up at him. “We should go back.”  
“Very soon. I heard a horse come in last night. I’m sure it was for us, from Eamon no doubt. I told him we were taking care of some unfinished business. I only told Teagan what it really was and where. I’m guessing that’s who it is.”  
“Then we’d best go get it over with.” She pulled out of his arms and walked back to the gate, picking up her clothes and shaking them violently to get the sand out. Alistair did the same and pulled on his shirt and smallclothes. Rosalyn pulled on her shirt, and reached down to pick up her smallclothes, handing them to Alistair.  
“For your collection,” she said, smiling.  
He took them from her and laughed. “I’ll take them. I lost the other pair in the Deep Roads.” He shoved them into the pocket of his breeches.  
“No you didn’t.” She handed him a wad of pink colored cloth she had removed from her breeches pocket. He took them and opened them to find the once white smallclothes, stained pink. “I tried to clean them several times but they won’t clean,” she told him quietly.  
Alistair held the stained cloth and stared at them as he realized what had happened. “It’s blood. Mine,” he said reverently. “You had them?”  
“I used them to staunch your wound. I wanted to get them back to you clean and unstained but….” Tears formed in her eyes. “I nearly lost you….” She turned and looked away, not wanting him to see her crying. “I promised I wouldn’t do this.”  
He stared at the bit of cloth in his hand and knew how close he’d come to losing her and everything else. He turned her to face him, holding her by the arms. “I want to keep them. To remind me that the woman I love put all aside to save me.”  
She sniffed, “You saved me too, you know.”  
“How is that?”  
“Duncan brought us together, but it was you who gave me a reason to fight and to keep fighting. When I went to Ostagar the second time, I had no intention of surviving. I was going to throw myself at the first Darkspawn I found and end it all. Now I have a reason to live; you.”  
Alistair shoved the smallclothes into his pocket with the others and took her in his arms. “I love you, Rosalyn Tabris. Let’s fight together.” He kissed her and took her hand, stopping long enough to get their boots before climbing the stairs to the house.

The Road to Redcliffe Castle

Teagan was already waiting for them in the dining room with Soris and Leliana. They were chatting comfortably when the Wardens entered, bedraggled and damp from their night on the beach. “So, finally came up for air, huh?” asked Soris laughing.  
“And how was your night?” Leliana asked, smiling.  
Alistair blushed and Rosalyn suddenly found the floor very interesting. “It was…” he looked down at Rosalyn and finished, “wonderful.” She smiled up at him and began to blush herself, causing him to kiss her soundly in front of everyone. When he had finished, he looked up at Teagan, “Eamon, no doubt.”  
“No doubt. Time to come home, Alistair,” he said.   
“I am home, uncle. But okay, give us a chance to dress and clean up and we’ll leave.” He called out to Peter, “Have a bath brought up to our room, please, Peter. And have Callie prepare food for the journey to Redcliffe for all of us and see the horses are readied.”  
“Yes, Ser Alistair, immediately.” Rosalyn’s heart wrenched a little to hear him use his best lordly tone. He would make such a fine king.  
“Give us an hour to wash and eat and we’ll leave.” He took Rosalyn’s hand and headed up the stairs.  
An hour later they were in the courtyard, this time waiting on Teagan as he bid Lana goodbye at the stairs, handing her a small bag before kissing her soundly and promising to return. She smiled and curtsied, saying, “Maker watch over you, my lord.” He smiled back and mounted his horse, ready to leave.  
Alistair mounted a huge brown mare, and held his hand out for Rosalyn. “Come on love, she’s the gentlest one I have.” Rosalyn slowly put out her hand and he pulled her up in front of him, kissing her neck as she settled herself. “Today is lesson number one, how to ride a horse,” he whispered. “Are you game? The rewards are very lucrative.”  
She turned in his arms, “Okay…what’s first?”  
“First you lean back and just get the feel for her. Use your sense, if you want to gauge her. She’s gentle and kind and will do what you want her to do and won’t take you anywhere you don’t want to go.”  
“All right,” she answered, leaning back against him and relaxing. “She does seem gentle enough. What’s her name?”  
“Felas.”  
Rosalyn laughed, “That’s elven! It means slow. Perfect name for a horse I’d ride.”  
He smiled, “I hoped you thought so. She’s yours now.”  
“Mine?”  
“Yours. I want you to have her. Small enough gift for all you’ve given me.”  
Rosalyn’s eyes teared up a little and she petted Felas’ neck tentatively. The mare snorted and raised her head, turning to touch Rosalyn’s leg with her nose, sniffing her scent. “She likes me!”  
“Of course she does. I explained it all to her and she agreed, you need to learn to ride and she is happy to teach you. I do plan to help though.”   
“You didn’t really talk to the horse, did you?”  
He laughed out loud at her question, “Actually, I did, but you will be happy to know she didn’t answer so I’m safe. Eamon gave her to me when I was ten and she was just a yearling, just before I went to the abbey. I never rode her much, but he sent her here when I was given the place along with two other mares and a stallion. They’ve been so busy, I now own thirty. She’s older but that’s good for a new rider; she’ll take good care of you. Ready to go?”  
“Not yet.” She turned around and threw her right leg over Felas’ neck so she sat sidesaddle. Reaching up, she took his face in her hands and kissed him, bringing her hands around his neck. He moaned and pulled her closer, deepening the kiss. They pulled apart only after “Uh hum!” was heard from Teagan. “Thank you,” she said softly.   
“Mmmm…lucrative rewards indeed,” he whispered. Clicking his tongue, he spurred Felas on, to Redcliffe and the war.

Redcliffe

They arrived at Redcliffe the next day and were greeted by Eamon and Isolde in the great hall. Eamon embraced both Rosalyn and Alistair, bowed before Leliana’s hand and was kind and gracious when Rosalyn introduced him to Soris. “I am pleased to meet you, Soris. Please consider my home yours while you are here.” Soris was humbled and stammered his thanks.   
Lady Isolde was full of kindness but seemed a bit cowed. Teagan had informed them on the road that the relationship between the Arl and Arlessa was extremely strained as a result of what had happened to the village and the revelation that Connor was a mage. Eamon planned to send his only child to the Circle as soon as they were able to accept new students and until then, the Circle mage healer continued to work with the boy as did several other mages from Kinloch Hold, who had recently arrived to join the army. A young Templar from the chantry had been assigned to protect the boy and keep him from mischief.  
“I gather you have acquired all the allies you sought to help us?” Eamon asked them.  
“Yes, my lord. The Dalish are sending all the bowmen they can spare and the dwarves will send warriors and a complement of troops from the Legion of the Dead, the best they have to offer,” Rosalyn answered.  
“The Legion of the Dead? Amazing! You have done well, both of you! We should prepare to leave as soon as possible for Denerim. I have called the Landsmeet to begin in three weeks’ time. That gives us a chance to get to the city and see what mischief we will have to fight. Will you two join me in my study?” He gestured to the side door and led the way, Alistair and Rosalyn following with Teagan behind them.  
As they reached the door to the study, Rosalyn spied Wynne talking and working with Connor in an adjacent room. “Please excuse me, my lord. I will join you in a bit.”   
Eamon nodded as he noticed where she headed. “Of course, my dear. Come to us when you are through.” Alistair gave her a pleading look as Eamon took him by the arm and led him into the study with Teagan and shut the door.  
Rosalyn stood by the door for a moment as she watched Wynne working with Connor. “Concentrate and think about what you want to do. Center the thought in a specific place in your body, your mind, your heart, even a hand or finger will work. Feel the power as it slowly gathers…..then….release!” She released an energy bolt that struck the wall at the far end of the room, dissipating quickly against the wall. “See? Now you try.”  
Connor closed his eyes and concentrated, sweat beading on his forehead. “Concentrate…slowly…now….release!” he repeated and a small energy bolt shot out from his hand, hitting the wall. “I did it Mistress Wynne! I did it!” he cried.  
“Excellent Connor! Well done! See if you can do it again while I talk to Lady Rosalyn.” She walked over to the door and embraced Rosalyn, “I’m so glad you are here and safe! Alistair is fine? I heard he was hurt.”  
“He is fine but I would have you look at him anyway. Connor seems to be doing well, is he fine?” Rosalyn asked.  
Wynne turned to look at the young boy mage as he threw another bolt at the wall. “He has no memory of what happened to him or the town. I suppose it’s blessing for him but I do wish he remembered a little so he would know what the cost of dealing with a demon is. It would make teaching him simpler. As it is he is very talented and will be a powerful addition to the Circle.” She paused and looked at Connor, “Try centering the power in a different part of yourself this time, your hand would be a good start.” Connor nodded and kept practicing.  
“I have something for you,” Rosalyn told her. She turned and picked up a long item, wrapped in a blanket and handed it to her. Wynne unwrapped it and gasped, “The sword! You found it!”  
“Bodahn did the work for us. He found the man Faryn then bargained with Dwyn from the village below to get it back. It was here in Redcliffe all the time! Give it to him and I wish him joy.”  
Wynne kissed her and set the sword down against the wall. “I’ll give it to him tonight. Thank you so much!” She hugged her again. “I’ll check on Alistair later this afternoon.”  
“You are both very welcome. I’d better go join the Arl. He should have admonished Alistair sufficiently by now. I’ll see you at dinner.” Wynne nodded and turned back to her student.

@@@@@

Rosalyn knocked at the door and entered when the Arl bade her. Eamon was standing by the large window looking out at the village and lake below and Teagan was sitting on a settee in the corner, sipping ale. Alistair stood by the wall, his face red, obviously having been scolded severely for something. “Are you all right?” she whispered.  
“Fine,” he answered. “I’ll tell you later.” He took a deep drink of his ale and sat down in a nearby chair.   
“Rosalyn, could I get you something to drink, my dear?” asked Eamon.   
“Water will be fine,” she answered. Eamon handed her a prepared glass, clearly anticipating her answer. “What did you wish to speak to us about, my lord?”  
Eamon turned to look out at the village below, “There aren’t enough words to thank you for all you have done for my country, my people and my family. I…I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you and Alistair and your companions.”  
“It was my pleasure, my lord,” she replied. Rosalyn looked over at Teagan as he sat on the settee. He shrugged at her and she turned back to Eamon. “Is there something wrong?”  
The Arl turned to her and cleared his throat, gathering the words he wanted to say. “I needed to talk to you about Alistair.”  
Rosalyn could feel his words hit her like a bolt from a crossbow. “I see.”  
“It is my understanding that your relationship with him has reached a certain point and I would ask you if it were true. What is the status of your union?”  
She looked over at Alistair, who shrugged and gave her another pleading look. Turning back to Eamon, she asked, “What has he told you?”  
“Only that you are married.”  
The emotions that hit her at the moment were the equivalent of being hit by a ballista arrow. “I…I don’t know what to say.”  
“Then it is true?” Eamon asked incredulous.  
Alistair stood up and put his arm around her. “It’s true. We were married at White Cliffs.” Rosalyn was speechless and quickly sat down, taking Alistair’s vacant chair. He held on to her hand as he continued, “Whatever you have planned, my lord, she will be a part. I will have no other.”  
Eamon was stunned, “I see.” He thought for a moment, “Then she will be. We will find a place for her.” He added quickly, “Somewhere.” He walked to the side table and poured himself a drink, “I will need to think on this for a while. Your rooms are prepared and I will see you at dinner.” With a wave of his hand, he dismissed them.  
Alistair pulled Rosalyn out of her chair and led her out the door as Teagan followed, smiling. As soon as the door shut behind him he said, “Nephew, I don’t know what you’re about, but it was a delight seeing you best him! Maker! You are so going to pay for that!”  
“I know, but it bought us time. Until then, will you excuse us, uncle? I think I need to take my ‘wife’ upstairs and talk.”  
Teagan took Rosalyn’s hand and leaned in and kissed her lightly on the lips. “First to kiss the bride,” he whispered seductively. Alistair cleared his throat and shook his head causing Teagan to release her hand and bow deeply. “Enjoy your afternoon,” he said as he walked down the hall, laughing to himself.  
Rosalyn was still senseless, trying to wrap her head around what had just happened. “Alistair…?”  
“Shhh, love. Save it for upstairs.” He took her hand and led her quickly up the stairs to the second floor and into his room, making sure no one saw them, bolting the door after they entered. He rested his head on the door and sighed deeply, “I really messed up this time, love.”

@@@@@

Rosalyn walked to the bed and sat down. Her thoughts were jumbled and confused as she tried to figure out what to say and do. “Why did you tell him we are married?” she asked quietly.  
Alistair turned and faced her, “It was the first thing I could think of. He was going on about letting you go and how I needed to think about giving the country an heir. He said you were beneath me, being an elf and from the Alienage. He wants me to marry that shrew Anora! So I snapped and told him to mind his own business and that you and I were married already and that you were a better woman than any titled lady in Thedas, including his own wife.”  
She had no ready reply as she regarded him, instead, she stood up and crossed the floor to him and let him take her in his arms. He held her for the longest time, his face buried in her hair before finally pulling back and looking down at her. “What do we do now?” he asked.  
Rosalyn thought about what to do and could come up with nothing, so she smiled, “I think we should have a wedding night then.” She reached up and pulled the tie out of her hair and shook it out like he loved to watch her do. Taking his hand, she led him to the bed and unbuckled her chest piece and greaves, taking off her bow and swords, tossing them aside. Alistair hurried to unbuckle every buckle he could reach and quickly toed off his boots.   
“You do know how crazy this is, don’t you? Celebrating a marriage that hasn’t occurred?” he asked as he pulled off his chest piece and dropped his sword and shield. Rosalyn was unbuckling his greaves and removing her boots then stood up to face him wearing nothing but her breeches and undershirt.  
“I have recently discovered that very little of what we do can be called sane. So why not? Gives us time to think and something to do while thinking.” She smiled and ran her hands down his chest until she reached the laces of his breeches, looking down at his crotch, “It’s not like you don’t want to.”  
“Maker’s breath! I do!” He pulled up her shirt and pulled it off her head as she untied his laces and loosened them. He pulled his undershirt over his head and threw it aside as she undid her breast bands. Clawing them off, he lowered his mouth and caught her nipple, drawing it in as she moaned and pressed against him.  
“Andraste’s mercy!” she cried, “More!” He laughed and took the other nipple in as she ran her hands around his waistband and pushed down, sliding his breeches over his hips. When he released her breast he took her mouth and lifted her up to sit on the bed, pulling at her laces until they were loose enough to slide off her breeches. He pulled them off, along with her smallclothes then pulled his own clothes off, kicking them away. His hand found the nub between her thighs and began to stroke her softly, listening to her moan into his mouth.   
Rosalyn was hot and ready for him as he entered her and pushed, causing them both to groan loudly. Grabbing her behind, he pulled her towards him, wrapping her legs around his waist as he pushed against her. She threw her head back and let him take her, feeling the waves travel over her as he pushed. When the rhythm of his strokes grew uneven and he began to pant, she squeezed him tighter and they crossed over the edge, crying out with the pleasure of their joining. With one last thrust, he finished and used the last of his strength to push himself up onto the bed next to her. He pulled up the covers and held on to her, vowing to never let her go.  
Rosalyn laid beside him for a long while, stroking his hair and skin as he slept, the worries of the world outside at bay. He’d told Eamon they were married, she thought. He had asked her but she had never given him an answer and he patiently waited for her to. She would never leave him, king or not king, married to another or not. He was hers and she would see he remained so.   
She considered all the parts of her problem carefully as she lay there. Ferelden needed a leader. Alistair was the best choice in most eyes as Maric’s son and Cailan’s brother. What he lacked in experience, he made up for with a practical nature and a sense of humor that swayed everyone he met. Charisma was the word she sought. He had it in spades. While not necessarily the best way to rule, it was a huge asset.   
Anora was the other side. Smart, experienced and shrewd, it was commonly known that Cailan had run the army and she ran everything else. As a couple they were well suited, just as Anora and Alistair would be. Loghain’s treachery ran deep though and she knew that even if he was free to marry Anora and Rosalyn was out of the picture, he wouldn’t do it. In his mind, and Rosalyn’s, Loghain killed Duncan and the other Wardens at Ostagar so marriage to his daughter would be out of the question.  
Then who should it be, was her fevered question. Alistair stirred in his sleep and rolled to his good side, his wound healed but still paining him. She bent and kissed the scar where Oghren had cauterized the wound to stop the bleeding and save his life; he sighed in his sleep, relaxing again.   
All at once it hit her. A solution that had been staring at her all along; she was just too stupid to see it for what it was. She carefully slipped out of bed, tucking the covers around Alistair as he slept and kissing his cheek; dressed in the brown dress and yellow sash that the servants had pressed and laid out for her, and combed and tied up her hair with the yellow ribbon. She washed her face and hands and rummaged through her pack for the bottle of rosewater Duncan had given her so long ago in Denerim. Dabbing it on, she looked into the mirror, checking how she looked before unlatching the door and slipping out. She instructed the hall guard that Alistair was not to be disturbed by anyone but Wynne until dinner and headed for the stairs to present her solution to Teagan first.

@@@@@

Rosalyn knocked on the door to Teagan’s room and he bade her enter. “Rosalyn? Has something happened?” he asked worried as he met her at the door.  
“I know how to solve our problem,” she said, then told him her plan.  
Teagan sat down in a chair as she mapped out her plan step by step. “And you think that will work?” he asked, amazed at her plotting.  
“You have to agree to it too. It will never work without your cooperation. Are you willing?”  
He thought for a while, pacing around while he did. It was a lot to consider but none of it was anything he hadn’t considered before. The plan would work and Ferelden would be better off in the long run. He turned to her and smiled, “Yes, I’m willing. Let’s go talk to Eamon.” Rosalyn smiled and hugged him, kissing him on the cheek. He hugged her back, saying, “I wish I’d met you first but Alistair deserves you. He’s a lucky man.”  
“I’m a lucky woman,” she replied happily. “Shall we go?”  
They walked together to Eamon’s study and knocked on the door. “Come,” he called. Teagan was first to enter, his smile beaming from ear to ear. “Teagan?” he asked as he looked up from his desk. “What have you been up to that you look like the cat that ate the canary? Better tell me now so I can deal with it.” He rose when he saw Rosalyn enter, looking fetching in her brown dress. “My lady Rosalyn. What seems to be the trouble?”  
Rosalyn looked up at Teagan and nodded. “How would you like a solution to most of your problems, brother?”  
“Since when are you in a position to solve my problems?”  
“I’m not but I know someone who is.”  
“I am,” announced Rosalyn.  
“You? This must be a joke and if it is, I have no time for this.” He walked back to his desk and sat down.  
“Tell him,” Teagan pushed.   
Rosalyn outlined her plan from beginning to end. She had thought of nearly all the details and those she hadn’t were supplied by Teagan. In the end, the three of them had mapped it out from beginning to end. “Andraste’s mercy, I wouldn’t have thought an Alienage elf could be so knowledgeable about politics and governing. I salute you, my lady,” said a surprised and please Eamon.  
“It’s not so different from dealing with smugglers and the Carta. There’s just not so many weapons involved,” she laughed, sipping the wine he had finally persuaded her to take. “At least not in the open.”  
“Indeed. That’s another problem I’ll have to consider too. The elf, Zevran, I think is his name; he has offered his services to me. He was an Antivan Crow, he said. Is this true?”  
“All true, my lord. He tried to kill Alistair and me in the early days of our travels. I persuaded Alistair to let him live and join us. He is loyal and would be a great asset to your staff and is knowledgeable about the many nuances of governing an unstable nation. Leliana is also an excellent addition; she is a former chantry sister who was a bard in another life. Her skills at espionage are excellent and she is unknown.”  
Eamon laughed until his sides ached at her suggestions, “I’ll see to it at once. What will you tell Alistair? He will be curious.”  
Rosalyn sipped the wine and looked up at her host, “Let’s not tell him. He won’t need to know as he has no role to play. I hate to keep him in the dark but the less he knows the more convincing the ruse will be. Let them think what we want them to think. I’ll take the blame for it all.”  
Eamon looked over at Teagan, who smiled, “Didn’t I tell you she was not only beautiful but devious?”  
“Indeed you did, brother.” He raised his glass and looked at her, “To you, Warden Rosalyn and the success of our plan.”  
Rosalyn smiled and raised her glass, “To a successful partnership, my lords.” She drank a deep drink then, her heart content at last. When they had finished their discussion, Eamon showed her to the door.   
“Alistair was so angry earlier, he said you were a better woman than any noblewoman, even my own wife. He was right. I am sorry for all the grief I have caused you, my dear,” Eamon told her.  
“Do not judge her so harshly, my lord. She loves you and your son and did only what she thought was right,” Rosalyn answered.  
“Perhaps. It does not change the cost of the whole affair. So many died who did not need to.” He paused, “Alistair is a lucky man to have you for a wife.”  
Rosalyn sobered for a moment, then continued. “We…we aren’t really married. He just told you that.”  
“I know. But I’m sure you soon will be,” he replied, smiling broadly at her admission.

@@@@@

Finishing her wine, she took her leave as the brothers continued their planning. Alistair would be sure to have noticed her absence so she headed quickly to his room, entering quietly and standing near the wall as she observed.   
She found him still in bed, cranky and obstinate, being examined by a determined Wynne and a curious Connor. “I don’t need you to fix anything, woman. Leave me alone and get him out of here!”  
“He is here to learn, Alistair. As my student, he must attend me at my duties and assist me when I need him.” She looked down at Connor, “Hand me that blue bottle, Connor.” The boy hurried to find the bottle and hand it to her.  
“She is only trying to help, Cousin Alistair. Do sit still,” pleaded Connor.  
“Fine, but if you say anything about anything else other than my wound, I’ll get up and walk out of here, clothes or no.” He pulled down the blanket he was holding up and bared his side for her to see.  
“Maker’s breath! Alistair, how did you ever survive this? It’s…it’s unbelievable!” Wynne exclaimed as she ran her hand over the huge scar.  
“I had help as you can see.” He gestured to Rosalyn at the back of the room. “Thought you could hide from me?”  
She smiled and came to stand at the foot of the bed. “I was merely staying out of the way.” She looked over at Connor, who was staring at Alistair’s wound. “Hello Connor.”  
He jumped as he realized she was speaking to him. “Oh! Hello Lady Rosalyn. I’m helping Mistress Wynne today.”  
“So you are and doing a marvelous job. Soon you’ll be casting all kinds of spells to annoy Cousin Alistair.” Alistair frowned his best “you're not helping” frown at her and she laughed, “What’s the verdict?”  
Wynne probed the wound with her hands, watching Alistair’s reaction. “There is still some minor inflammation inside but it seems to be healing well. She chanted a short phrase and energy spilled from her hands and penetrated the wound. Alistair sighed and laid his head back and Rosalyn came forward and took his hand. “There, that should help some. Don’t use that side for a day or two and come see me tomorrow for another spell. You should be ready to go after that. Connor, let’s go get ready for dinner, shall we?”  
Connor nodded and took Wynne’s pack, shouldered it and said, “I’ll take this to your room, Mistress Wynne. Then I’ll go change for dinner. See you later Cousin Alistair!” He ran out of the room.  
“He seems happy,” Rosalyn noticed.  
“Very happy. I think it is a relief that everyone knows he’s a mage. He doesn’t have to hide anymore. I understand that feeling well,” Wynne admitted.   
She smacked Alistair’s leg and he hollered, “Hey!” She laughed then and followed Connor out. “I’ll see you at dinner,” she said as she shut the door behind her.  
Alistair watched her go then turned to Rosalyn who was still standing next to him. “Where did you go? I woke up and you were gone. I missed you.” He pulled her down and kissed her passionately, grabbing her hand and putting it on the covers above his hips. “See how much?” he asked, his voice husky.  
Rosalyn squeezed him and kissed him back, “Seems you missed me and I was only gone a few hours. It’s time for dinner and you aren’t dressed. We’re expected and can’t get out of it.” She pulled the covers off and grabbed his hand and pulled. “Get up lazy!”  
“Fine! Don’t say I didn’t try.” He stood up and stretched then reached for his smallclothes, pulling them on. Rosalyn fetched him some water and laid out his razor, soap, towel and comb. He washed his face and shaved while she laid out his clothes for him, choosing the dark brown breeches, white shirt and blue coat that were her favorites. He looked over at her and noticed she was wearing the dress he’s chosen for her all those long months ago. He watched her work, finally saying, “Come here.”  
She looked up and shook her head, “We’ll be late and everyone will know why. Get dressed and I promise we’ll go to bed early and get up late.”  
“You’re no fun,” he complained, turning to put on his shirt. Rosalyn helped him tie the cravat so he looked official, then helped him put on the jacket, brushing it off as he shrugged. “I’m afraid it’s getting a little small.”  
“We’ll get a new one. It’s okay for now.” She turned to look in the mirror and check her hair and he caught her hand, pulling her back to him and kissing her hard and long. She sighed and leaned into the kiss, moaning as his hands ran over her.   
They were late to dinner.

@@@@@

After dinner, Alistair took her for a walk in the garden as the flowers were in full bloom and he wanted to spend as much time with her as possible. Mostly he was avoiding Eamon and his scheming but Rosalyn had convinced Eamon and Teagan to back off a little bit and allow them more time alone while not revealing too much. Rosalyn simply told Alistair that Teagan had told Eamon to leave them alone for a while as they were “newly married.” Alistair was relieved and unsuspecting while Rosalyn felt guilty for deceiving him even though it was for a great cause.  
They walked through the garden and he stopped to pick a bloom for her, carefully cutting it and removing the thorns for her. “Thank you, Alistair. It’s lovely.” She put the flower to her nose and sniffed it, letting the fragrance carry her away, it was her favorite.  
“Not as lovely as you, love. That’s not all the surprises though. I have another.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small wrapped package and presented it to her.  
“What’s this?”  
“Open it. I hope it’s the right size.”  
Rosalyn unwrapped the package and removed the paper to find a set of pink silk smallclothes, covered in embroidery. She glanced around to make sure no one else was around to see. “They’re beautiful!” she exclaimed. “Thank you!” She threw her arms around him and held him close. “’How did you ever manage to get them?”  
“Before we left for the Deep Roads, I sent a note to Teagan to find someone to make them for you. He laughed when he gave them to me at White Cliffs but when I explained why; he just smiled and thought it a grand gesture. His only regret is that he can’t see you in them. I think he has a crush on you.”  
She laughed, running her finger over the soft silk. “They are beautiful. I shall model them for you tonight.”   
“Look under them,” he told her.  
Rosalyn looked under the cloth and found a small box and pulled it out, setting the rest down on a bench. She opened it and gasped. Inside was a beautiful ring of silverite with rubies set into the metal. “Alistair!” she exclaimed as she fingered the beautiful ring.   
“Eamon gave it to me. He asked why you weren’t wearing a wedding ring and I told him you were afraid that it would get in the way while you used your swords. He said it was his sister, Queen Rowan’s. My father gave it to her when they were betrothed as children. It was made flat and low on her hand so she could wield a sword and bow. When she died, Maric sent it here to keep it safe for Cailan. Anora didn’t like it and wanted her own made so he sent it back to Eamon to keep. He wanted me to give it to you. He said it should go to a warrior.”  
“I don’t know what to say. It’s the most beautiful ring I’ve ever seen.”  
Alistair took it from her and placed it on her right hand. “So will you wear it; as a token from your lover at least?”  
Rosalyn smiled and kissed the ring before putting her arms around his neck. “I’ll wear it as a token of my husband’s love.”  
“So does this mean your answer is yes?”  
She sobered at his question. “I…I still don’t know Alistair, but I’ll wear the ring. For you.”  
He hung his head a little, “I guess a half answer will have to do. I can wait a little while longer, I guess.” He perked up a little. “I can still pretend, right? That you’re my wife while we are here?”  
Rosalyn pulled him down to her, “We can do more than pretend, love. I still have to model those pink smallclothes yet.”  
“I’m definitely going to like married life,” he said, claiming her mouth.

Denerim

After days of preparation, the companions left with Eamon and Teagan for Denerim and the Landsmeet. The journey was uneventful, mostly due to the large amount of troops Eamon insisted on traveling with them. The troops were a precaution suggested by Zevran to dissuade any additional attempts on the Alistair or the Arl’s lives while on the road. The troops would camp outside the city in a ready state.  
Zevran and Leliana had both been brought into the plan by Eamon, who had immediately begun to depend on their expertise. While both questioned the necessity of keeping the secret from Alistair, they also agreed that for the time being it was for the best that he not be told; for his own safety if for no other reason.   
The very day they arrived proved to be the most interesting for them as they received a visit from the regent himself, Loghain, accompanied by his second in command, Ser Cauthrien and Rendon Howe, the new Arl of Denerim. The group was well-armed and slightly defiant.   
“I am pleased to see you are well, Eamon. We had been under the impression you were unwell,” said Loghain with pretend concern. “I was hoping we could discuss the regency and seeing what can be done to improve relations with the banns.”  
“Loghain. How…kind of you to inquire on my health personally. There are many things I wish to discuss involving the situation here and elsewhere,” replied an unusually hesitant Eamon.  
Loghain raised his hand in a pretend gesture of peace, “It was no trouble. You remember Rendon Howe, Arl of Amaranthine and now Denerim.”  
“So he is the one responsible for butchering my kin?” asked Rosalyn as she put her hand on her sword.  
“So you are taking in strays now Eamon?” asked an annoyed Loghain.  
Howe stood forward, his demeanor haughty and uncaring, “When the animals turn on their masters, it’s time to cull the herd.”  
Rosalyn stepped forward, her hand on her swords, “Say that again, shem,” she said, coldly, with a look that sent chills to Alistair’s spine.   
“There is no need for this, Warden,” said Eamon. Sten stepped forward and stood beside her, a stone wall to guard her.  
“And here I thought it was only royal bastards you played host to, Eamon. Not derelict Wardens who should be in jail,” commented an angry Loghain.  
“You are the one who killed Cailan, not the Wardens,” Alistair declared. “Join us and fight before it’s too late!”  
“The Wardens killed my son in law just as they will allow the Orlesians to take over again!” Loghain yelled at them. Rosalyn and Alistair stood their ground, refusing to back away.   
Alistair took a step forward and stood on her other side, putting his hand on her arm. “We’re done here,” he said, turning and leaving, Rosalyn, Sten and Eamon following. As he left, Eamon informed his steward, “Show the Teyrn out.” The steward stepped forward and gestured to the door as a dozen armed men entered the room from all doors and surrounded Loghain and his party as they exited the building and the estate, an armed and unfriendly escort.

@@@@@

Alistair led Rosalyn into the library and closed the door behind then. “What was that all about?” he asked, more than a little perturbed at her.  
“He is responsible for my family being stuck in the Alienage. Assuming they are even still there and haven’t been purged,” she answered defiantly.  
Alistair sat down on a chair against the wall and looked up at her, a worried look crossing his face. “What happens if they’ve been ‘purged’?” he asked her carefully.  
“They could be in prison, sold into indentured servitude or slavery, or dead. It would depend on what their crimes are. I would have been killed and quickly if I were still there, even without having killed the Arl’s son.”  
“Why would they go after you?”  
She sat down next to him, “I was a smuggler and a killer. That makes me undesirable to them. The purge would have taken me first. With the smuggling ring broken, another ring could take its place, a human run ring even more ruthless than ours ever was. And it’s all Howe’s fault.”  
He put his arm around her and drew her in, “I know you want to kill him, but you have to hold back. I promise that you will get a shot at him. We have to wait for the right time and I’ll be right there when you do, guarding your back.”  
“Guard me well, love. I don’t want to lose this one.”  
“Oh, I will. I happen to be very fond of your back, and your front.” He smiled a sinister smile, “Shall I find a place and show you how much?”  
Rosalyn laughed. “I would love nothing better but we’re expected in the study and I don’t think it’s for tea. Come on.” She stood up and took his hand, pulling him up.  
“You’re no fun sometimes, you know.”   
“I usually make up for it don’t I?”  
He bent down and kissed her, “You do. Let’s go.”  
They met Eamon in his study where he was talking to a young, dark haired elven girl. Eamon greeted them both as they entered. “Good, you’re here. This is Erlina, Anora’s personal maid. She had braved great peril to bring us some interesting information.”  
“What sort of information?” asked Rosalyn.  
“My lady has been kidnapped by Arl Howe. She paid him a visit at his estate and he took her, calling her all sorts of horrible names and finally imprisoning her in his estate,” explained the girl.  
Alistair looked down at Rosalyn then at Eamon, “Why would Howe kidnap the queen? She’s on his side isn’t she?”  
“She thinks her father has gone mad, my lord. She goes to Howe to ask for his help but he is part of the plan to take over the country as his actions have demonstrated; what happened to the Couslands is the best example of his treachery.”  
“So what do you want us to do?” asked Rosalyn  
“We must free my lady before something dreadful happens to her. Please, you must help me!”  
Eamon shrugged his shoulders in indecision. This was not a job for a statesman, but a warrior. “I must admit, I am at a loss here. What do you wish to do?”  
“I have uniforms of the guard and new ones are hired everyday so you can sneak into the castle without being suspected. I can take you to the queen so you can free her. Please help me, you must!”  
Alistair took Rosalyn’s arm and led her to the other side of the room. “You do know this is a trap.”  
She smiled and evil smile, “Of course I do, but it’s also the opportunity we needed to get Howe and find out what he’s up to. This type of operation is just my style.”  
“Again, the sexy look.” He sighed, “Too bad I don’t have time to take advantage of it. All right, let’s do this. We’ll take Zevran and Leliana with us. It’s their style too.” They crossed the room and looked at Eamon. “We’ll help you. Where do we start?”  
“I will meet you at the entrance to the estate in two hours. I will have the uniforms ready for you there. Please hurry!” answered Erlina, who left them as quickly as she could.  
Eamon was concerned for them, “Can we trust her? This could be a trap.”  
“Of course we can’t trust her,” Rosalyn told him. “But the first step in avoiding a trap is knowing it exists.” She looked up at Alistair. “Ready?”  
“No, but let’s go” he replied reluctantly as she led the way out of the study.

On the Way to the Arl of Denerim’s Estate

Wynne complained that she should go with them to the estate, but Alistair was adamant, “If this goes all wrong, I want you here. The Arl will need you and Sten’s expertise and knowledge when you mount a rescue. Which I do sincerely hope you will.” He smiled and winked at her.  
“Scamp,” she chided as he smiled his best Alistair smile. “Get you gone.”   
He bent down and kissed her cheek, teasing, “Yes, Mother.” Wynne laughed and blushed like a girl, making him smile all the more.   
Rosalyn was pleased to see him so happy. She took his arm and pulled him out the door, “Come, lover. Enough fun.”  
“Lover, huh? Does that mean more fun?” he teased. Looking back at Wynne he added, “Bye Wynne!”   
Wynne laughed and watched him go. “Maker watch over you, son,” she whispered.  
The trip through the city was uneventful until they came across a deserted back street. Zevran was on alert immediately, putting hand out and stopping Rosalyn and Alistair. “A trap,” he said. “The Crows.”  
As if he had summoned them, a group of about nine or ten warriors and rogues appeared ahead of them on the street. “And so here are the mighty Grey Wardens at last. Greeting from the Crows!”  
“So they sent you Taliesen? Or did you volunteer?” asked a disgusted Zevran.  
Taliesin laughed, “Oh I volunteered! When I heard the great Zevran had gone rogue, I had to see it for myself.”  
Zevran laughed back at him, “Is that so? Well here I am, in the flesh.”  
“You can return with me, Zevran. I know why you left and I don’t blame you. It’s not too late to come back. Anyone can make a mistake.”  
Rosalyn looked at Alistair, who pulled his sword halfway out of his scabbard. “Of course, we’d have to be dead,” he replied defiantly.  
Zevran’s hand came out and grabbed Alistair’s arm, “I’m not about to let that happen, my friend.”  
“What? You’ve gone soft!” exclaimed Taliesen.  
“I’m sorry, old friend, but the answer is no. I’m not coming back and you should have stayed in Antiva.” Zevran pulled a dagger from his belt and threw it at the guard closest to Taliesen. It lodged in his chest and he dropped like a stone. “Let’s dance,” he laughed.  
Rosalyn stepped back and unleashed arrows as fast as she could while Alistair and Leliana attacked Taliesen’s guards, weeding out his defenses. Zevran took Taliesen on himself and they fought fiercely, neither giving up an inch as the other assassins were defeated around them. When there was only Taliesen left, they stood back and watched, leaving it to Zevran to make his own statement but remaining ready to lend assistance. Slowly he whittled away at Taliesin’s defense until he had him on his knees, begging for his life.  
“If I let you live, my friend, I’ll never be rid of you or the Crows,” Zevran replied sadly. “So I cannot. I am sorry.” He raised his sword for the killing blow when there was a flash from Taliesen’s hand that Zevran didn’t see. “  
Rosalyn cried out, “Zevran!” but before he could react, Taliesen fell over dead, a knife lodged in his throat. Rosalyn looked to the direction the knife came and saw Alistair lowering his hand to his side. He looked down at her and shrugged, smiling. “Oh you are so going to answer for that,” she whispered seductively.   
“I look forward to it, love,” he answered smiling.  
Zevran knelt down and pulled the knife out of Taliesen’s body and cleaned it on the dead man’s shirt. “I’m sorry, my friend,” he whispered in Antivan. Looking at the blade in his hand, he smiled and stood up, coming to stand in front of Alistair. “It seems you lost something,” he said as he handed the blade back. “And thank you for that.”  
“My pleasure,” Alistair replied, smiling.  
Zevran sighed and looked around him at the carnage they had waged. “There it is. Taliesen is dead and I am free.” He looked back at the Wardens, “They will assume that I am dead along with him. As long as I don’t make my presence known to them, they will leave me alone.”  
So what now?” asked Rosalyn.  
He chuckled, “I don’t know. I have options now that I never had before. I suppose I could leave and go far away where the Crows would never find me.” He grew quiet for a few moments, considering his possible courses of action, “I think I will…stay. I made an oath to you both and I would keep it. Saving the world seems such a worthy task that I would see it through to the end, if you will have me.”  
Alistair looked down at Rosalyn and she smiled and nodded. “We wouldn’t be able to defeat it without you, Zevran,” she told him. “Please stay.”  
“Excellent!” He said, shaking Alistair’s hand and hugging both Rosalyn and Leliana. “Shall we save the queen?”  
Rosalyn laughed, “Lead the way,” she ordered.

The Arl of Denerim’s Estate

When they arrived at the Arl of Denerim’s estate they discovered a large crowd of irate tradesmen and merchants, eager to collect money due them. Taking advantage of the chaos, they snuck into the courtyard where they met Erlina near an abandoned wagon. “Here are the guard uniforms,” she said. “There are new guards hired everyday so no one will suspect you and it will be easy to sneak into the house to find my lady.”  
“Let’s go get this over with,” replied Alistair as he took his uniform.   
The companions followed Erlina to the back of the house where they quickly donned their uniform tunics over their existing armor. Rosalyn and Zevran pulled their hoods up over their heads to disguise the fact that they were elves as a precaution in case anyone wondered what two heavily armed elves were doing with access to the estate.   
Erlina walked through the house as if she was on an errand for her mistress and it was clear to Alistair and Rosalyn that she had been there several times before as no one stopped to question her right to be there. The companions followed her a short distance behind, making it appear as if they were all coincidentally going the same direction.   
After a roundabout and circuitous route through the house, they arrived at the quarters that had been assigned to Queen Anora only to find not just a locked door but one that had been sealed magically. “You will need to find the mage who set the spell,” instructed the Queen. “It is the only way I know to break the enchantment. I believe he is with Arl Howe and they were headed to his rooms at the far end of this hallway. Maker keep you Wardens.”  
Alistair was nervous as they headed towards the location of the Arl’s rooms, “You know, I don’t have to be a rogue, a smuggler or a thief to know for sure that we are walking into a trap.” Rosalyn and the others looked at him, surprised he was that astute as to their situation. He shrugged off their looks, replying, “Just so you know I’m not completely ignorant of the whole ‘sneaking around the enemy’s house’ thing you’ve got going here.”   
“It is what it is, love,” Rosalyn replied, putting her hand on his hand in reassurance.  
“Yeah, but I’m just saying,” he shot back, still nervous and not a bit comfortable. Rosalyn smiled up at him and he managed a weak smile back but she could feel his nerves were on edge, just as hers were.  
“Let’s get it over with then,” she said, letting him feel her own discomfort. He nodded and led the way down the back hallway to two doors. Rosalyn got that look she always got when she had an idea. She pulled out her tools and knelt in front of the right hand door. “Keep watch,” she told the others while she worked on the door, opening it quickly to reveal three chests and several bags lying on the floor. Grabbing Alistair’s hand, she pulled him into the small room. “Open them,” she told him as she rifled through the bags.  
Alistair was puzzled but did what she said, exclaiming, “Maker’s breath! Gold! Jewels! Piles of it! How did you know?”  
“This is where the former Arl kept his treasury. It was empty when I was here before as he must have moved it to a safer place. My father said Bann Rodolf told him the old Arl never did trust Vaughan to run things when he was away so he hid his money. I think Howe needs to make a contribution to the Grey Wardens and the Alienage, don’t you agree?” She smiled that sinister smile he loved and began to stuff her small ruck sack with all the gold and jewels she could carry.  
Alistair looked down at her; it still amazed him when she found angles and hidden benefits during a job. She was one of a kind, and she was his. He pulled out his own small ruck sack and started stuffing as much as he could into it. “Again you surprise me, love. I’m convinced now; you are the sexiest, most beautiful woman in all of Thedas and I’m totally corrupted by you. Might as well enjoy it.” She laughed at his admission.  
When they had finished, they handed the sacks to Leliana and Zevran to carry. “You are much less likely to be caught than we are so you can get out with at least some of what we took,” she told them. They both agreed and shouldered the packs and headed across the hallway into Howe’s rooms.   
Howe wasn’t there but Zevran found a door inset in the back wall that was unlocked. Alistair and Leliana rifled through the desk drawers and chests looking for any evidence that could aid their cause. He found a pouch in a chest and exclaimed when he opened it to examine the contents, “This is a Grey Warden cipher! These are ours.”  
Rosalyn looked at the documents he held, “Can you read them?”  
“Unfortunately not, but I’ve seen these before. Duncan had a set of them on his person. We have to keep these safe.” He began to unbuckle his breastplate, “Help me,” he asked. Rosalyn unbuckled the heavy plate and pulled it off him. He set the front piece down and pried off the inner liner, revealing a hidden space where he stuffed the documents. Rosalyn smiled when she saw two pairs of smallclothes, one white and one pink colored, stuffed into the back of the space. “Next to my heart,” he whispered as he replaced the lining and donned the plate.   
Rosalyn fastened his buckles and made sure it was set properly for him, then stood on tiptoe and kissed him. “I love you,” she whispered.   
He smiled and nodded, “Me too. Let’s go.” They headed through the inset door and down the steps to whatever waited them.

@@@@@

As they descended the stairs, Alistair began to wish he hadn’t ignored Zevran’s request that he ditch the heavier plate armor in favor of the rogue armor he had acquired from Arl Eamon’s armory. “I’m afraid I’m not exactly quiet as I move. Someone will hear us coming a mile away with the racket this suit makes.”  
“So we fight more. We can do that. Next time, listen to us when we tell you not to wear it,” Leliana chided him, smiling at him mischievously.  
“Right. I’ll do that,” he replied. “You three go ahead and I’ll follow behind. If we run into trouble, I’ll charge in then.”  
Zevran opened the door at the bottom of the stairs to reveal two holding cells and a large room full of torture equipment. “This all looks familiar,” he joked.   
A guard stood against the wall, absently picking at his gloves. “Hey! What are you…” he started, only to have a hand come out of the cell next to him and grab him by the neck, twisting violently until his neck snapped and he went still. Rosalyn slowly backed up against Alistair as a second hand snaked out and rifled through the dead man’s pockets, pulling a set of keys out and unlocking the door. The body of the man was pulled into the cell and there was the sound of buckles coming loose and the clink of armor.  
“My thanks for creating a distraction. I have waited weeks for an escape,” came a voice from the cell. A dark haired man in his late thirties emerged from the cell, pale and thin from weeks spent in confinement. “Do you think you could…Alistair?”  
Alistair’s eyes opened wide, “Riordan? Maker’s breath! Are you all right?”  
“You know him?” asked Rosalyn.  
“He was at my Joining.” He turned to Riordan, “This is Rosalyn, our newest Grey Warden, and our friends, Zevran and Leliana. What are you doing in here?”  
Riordan smiled a warm smile at Rosalyn and the others, “Trying to hold my tongue mostly. When we didn’t hear anything from King Cailan, I was sent to investigate what had happened. I had no idea I would find what I did.” He put his hand out to steady himself and Leliana rushed forward to hand him her water skin. He drank deeply, thanking her for her assistance. Zevran handed him a piece of cheese from his pack and Riordan tore into it.  
“What size of force do you have with you?” asked Rosalyn.  
Riordan took another drink and answered, “There are two hundred Wardens and two dozen divisions of cavalry. We were turned back at the border when we attempted to join the armies at Ostagar. That’s when we discovered what happened. I was sent in alone as I could blend in, being a native myself.”  
“Is there any way to contact them? The Archdemon has left the underground and will march soon,” Alistair pleaded.  
Riordan shook his head, “The other Wardens will not cross the border and risk their strength fighting a civil war they have no business fighting. To do so would be suicide, but I hear you aren’t doing so badly as raising an army yourself. If the edict against us can be lifted, I can get word to my men to join us.”  
“Come with us and fight. We’ll get you a weapon,” Rosalyn asked.  
“I should find a healer first. I am in no shape to fight any battle today. Where are you staying?”  
“Head to Arl Eamon’s estate and tell him I sent you. See the mage Wynne and she will see to your comfort and healing.” Alistair unbuckled the front of his armor and pulled out the papers he had found in the chest. “Are these yours? They are Grey Warden ciphers.”  
“Yes. I will take them and see to their safety. While I know Howe cannot decipher them, I am not happy that he has access to them. He has gone further into the dungeon with his men. He is heavily armed and I believe he knows you are here. Maker watch over you all.” Riordan took a dagger from Leliana as a weapon and took to the stairs, finding his own way out.  
A second door was inset into the back wall and Rosalyn had it opened quickly. It revealed a second set of stairs leading further down into the dungeons. Zevran led the way, his daggers drawn, down to whatever waited them next.

@@@@@

Zevran motioned for them to stand still as he approached the door at the bottom of the stairs. He listened, his ear to the door and nodded, indicating there were men on the other side. His hands came up and signaled the number six. Rosalyn and Leliana joined him at the bottom of the stairs while Alistair stood still, afraid to move for fear his armor would make too much noise and give away their position. He carefully drew his sword and shield and prepared to charge at Zevran or Rosalyn’s signal.  
Zevran opened the door and entered slowly with Rosalyn and Leliana. They were challenged immediately, “Who are you and what are you doing down here?”  
“Aw, come on. You know me,” complained Rosalyn. She could hear Alistair as he slowly descended the steps so she stalled for time to cover his entry. “I’m Rosalyn, the new guard.”  
“No one gets in here without Howe’s permission, including the new guards,” he stated, drawing his sword.  
Rosalyn shrugged, “As you wish, friend.” Alistair suddenly appeared behind her as she stepped aside, his sword swinging down, beheading the man where he stood.   
“Hello, lover,” she said cheerfully.   
“Hello, love,” Alistair replied. “Having fun yet?” She nodded. He looked at the other men standing back from them, looks of horror on their faces, and asked, “Anyone else want an introduction?”  
The other guards opened fire or ran, forcing the companions to chase them down the halls. They soon found themselves in a melee combat with every type of warrior and mage. The closeness of the halls made it difficult for the mages to cast spells as the companions were able to duck behind walls and into doorways, thus dispelling the magic thrown at them against the stone walls of the hallway. They set up a gauntlet in a narrow part of the hallway and drew Howe’s men into it, Leliana and Rosalyn picking them off with bows while Alistair and Zevran finished them off and prevented them from getting too close. Eventually they were able to proceed slowly down the hallway, taking any newcomers out as they went.  
Rosalyn led the way into another torture room where a half dozen men were working on a young man tied to a rack. She tossed an acid bomb into the group, stunning and surprising them, then she and Leliana opened fire as the men picked off the rest. They approached the man with caution, checking him for wounds as they released him from his bonds.   
“Is this supposed to be a lesson? Did my father think it was funny to leave me here so long before sending you here?” the man complained.  
“Unless your father is Arl Eamon, he didn’t send us and probably doesn’t know you are here,” answered Alistair as he gave the man his water skin to drink from.   
Leliana checked him for injuries and gave him some food and a health potion. “Drink this. It will help with your strength,” she bid him.   
The man did as she told him. “I am Oswyn, son of Bann Sighard of Dragon’s Peak. Who should I be thanking for my rescue?”   
“I am Rosalyn of the Grey Wardens, Warden Alistair, Zevran and Leliana. We are looking for Arl Howe. Where is he?” she asked.  
Oswyn shook his head, “I do not have to ask why you are here and why you seek him. Your order suffered more than any others at Ostagar. I was held here because I questioned out loud the wisdom of Loghain’s retreat in the wrong company. I was immediately seized and have been held here ever since. Howe said the Arl of Redcliffe was dead and the Landsmeet was called off.”  
“That’s a lie. Arl Eamon lives and is working to end this civil war as we speak,” Alistair assured him. “Your father is an important voice in the cause.”  
“And he shall be come more important when I tell him what has happened to me. Howe is down the hallway on the left. Thank you Wardens. Maker keep you.” Oswyn bowed to them and found his clothes, donning them with help from Alistair and Zevran.   
Rosalyn handed him a dagger for protection. “You must not be afraid to use it. Go up those stairs and up the other set to Howe’s rooms. There is a secret door in the far wall, hidden behind the tapestry. It leads to the courtyard and the back gate. Be careful, Oswyn.” He nodded and smiled at her, taking the water skin and some food and limping out of the room.   
“To the rats now, my dear?” Zevran asked her.  
“And the snakes,” she said as she led the way out of the room and down the hallway.

@@@@@

The group took advantage of a lull in the battles and rested for a few minutes, eating and drinking some water before continuing down the hallway to Howe’s chamber. Once ready, they headed on. Alistair no longer bothered to cover the sounds from his armor as they worked their way down the hall. “I think he probably knows we are here now.”  
Zevran walked ahead, listening and checking the doors they encountered, finally discovering the one they sought. “He is not alone. I hear at least six men or more in there with him.”  
Alistair shook his head and looked down at Rosalyn, “There are mages there. I sense them; powerful ones.” He took the lead with her, gathering his power to him to use quickly against a magical attack. Leliana opened the door and stepped aside, letting the Wardens lead the way.   
“Well, well. The Grey Wardens themselves. I must say I am surprised that Eamon would condone the invasion of my castle and the murder of my men.” Howe’s voice was slick and slimy, like the man himself.  
Rosalyn smiled at him, “He wouldn’t, if it were truly your castle. As it isn’t yours, he does.”  
“So he’s losing faith in the Landsmeet? Tch, tch, tch.”  
There was the unmistakable singing of Alistair’s sword as it was drawn from his scabbard, “And what of the Alienage, Howe? The purge?”  
Howe laughed at the mere mention that the purge was wrong. “The animals needed to be put down. I just hastened the plan.” He aimed his thoughts at Rosalyn.  
Rosalyn’s eyes narrowed as she zoomed in on Howe. She raised her bow and nocked an arrow, “Shall we test that plan?” she asked. Before he could draw his sword, she loosed the arrow, pinning his foot to the floor below him. She nocked a second one before anyone could react, sending it at the mage at the far end of the room as he gathered his power. Alistair let loose Holy Smite and drained the mana of the other one while Leliana and Zevran drew swords and engaged the rogues nearest them. Rosalyn held Howe at bay as he whimpered in pain, his foot immobile. Occasionally, she loosed an arrow to down a foe that had gotten too close to one the others.  
It was all over quickly, the guards and mages dead, and only Howe still alive. “What now Warden? Am I next?” Rosalyn loosed a second arrow into Howe’s other foot. He screamed in pain and fury. “So…you are afraid to…face me yourself?” he asked.  
Rosalyn looked up at Alistair, who nodded. She slung her bow onto her back, stuffing the arrow back into the quiver. “I think you can stay here until the Arl’s troops come for you. I do hope you’ll be comfortable while you wait.” She turned to walk out of the room.  
Howe sputtered and spat as he tried to free himself. “Seems you’re a bigger bitch than that mother of yours was,” he spat. “It was a pleasure when Jarvia took care of her. Best money I ever spent.”  
Rosalyn stopped dead in her tracks and felt his words wash over her. She had heard the rumors that there was a powerful force backing Jarvia and the Carta in their takeover of the Alienage smuggling. Now she knew who it was. She closed her eyes and let the fury consume her, strong and fulfilling. Alistair had never seen her look as she did then and it scared him.   
“What’s the matter bitch? Can’t deal with the truth?” Howe spat at her.  
For the rest of his life, Alistair never saw anyone who could move as fast as Rosalyn did that day in the dungeons. She was like lightning, her hand went to her belt and the knife was imbedded in Howe’s eye, his body slumping to the floor. “You made a poor investment in Jarvia. She’s as dead as you are,” she said as he died. She spat at him and left the room, leaving her knife with its Grey Warden emblem buried in his skull.

@@@@@

Rosalyn led the way up the stairs and into Howe’s bedroom, stopping long enough to see that there was no one there before she headed down the hallway to Anora’s rooms, Alistair and the others following. They reached the Queen’s rooms and found her dressed in armor, provided by her maid as a precaution against attack. She carried a bow and small daggers. “I can use them if need be, Wardens, but I would prefer a peaceful escape.”   
“Let’s go,” said Alistair as he led the way to the main doors.   
They were met by Ser Cauthrien, Loghain’s second in command and a host of troops. “In the name of the regent, I place you under arrest for the murder of Rendon Howe and his men. Surrender and you may be shown mercy.”  
Alistair and Zevran drew their weapons and Leliana nocked an arrow, preparing to strike. Rosalyn stepped forward, her hands outstretched in a gesture of surrender. “We will stand down,” she said.  
“What! Why stop now? Cauthrien is all that stands between us and freedom!” Alistair asked her angrily.  
“Are you sure this is what you wish?” asked Erlina.  
Rosalyn looked up at him with a look of sadness and acceptance, “Killing them just reinforces Loghain’s lies about us.” He reached out with his senses and felt her pain and sadness and the truth. He dropped his sword and shield to the ground and lifted his hands in surrender.  
Cauthrien nodded, “Bring the Wardens and leave the others. Loghain doesn’t care about them.”   
Alistair turned to Zevran, “Get her out of here.”  
Zevran and Leliana quickly shepherded Erlina and Anora out the door quickly, leaving them behind.   
Rosalyn looked up at Cauthrien as she stood in front of her. The knight looked up and over her head and nodded. There was a sharp pain at the back of Rosalyn’s head and then blackness.  
She awoke some time later, dressed only in her smallclothes, her head in Alistair’s lap. He stroked her hair as he held her, muttering a prayer under his breath. She slowly opened her eyes and they focused on him. “You’re awake! I was starting to worry,” he said, holding her close.  
“Where are we?” she asked as he helped her sit up.  
“Ft Drakon, I think. I was here once for training when I was at the abbey and it looks familiar.”  
She shook her head to clear the cobwebs. “Are you all right?” She had noticed the new wound on his stomach.  
“You’ve seen me worse. I fought back when Cauthrien ordered her men to hit you. This is the result. I’ll be okay as soon as we get out of here.”  
Rosalyn stood up and walked to the door, looking at the lock and then out at the hallway in front of them. A single guard was standing not far away, watching her. She turned and went back to Alistair as he stood by the back wall. “Let’s get out of here,” she said, smiling.  
“You have a plan,” he said, smiling. She winked and he nodded, waiting for her to make the first move. She went to the door and knelt down, pulling a stick from her mouth and inserting it into the lock. It took no time at all to pick. She motioned to Alistair to stand behind her, and opened the door, surprising the guard, who ran in to stop them from escaping. Alistair planted a hard right cross to the man’s jaw and he dropped like a stone. Rosalyn searched him for keys in case they needed to open any other doors.   
“Oh I like that move,” she said seductively. “My hero.”   
He bent down and kissed her. “At your service, love. What’s next?”  
“We find our weapons or at least some we can use,” she said, leading the way out of the cell. A search of the nearby rooms turned up their armor and weapons and they donned them quickly. “How do we get out of here?”  
“I think we are on the second floor here. We need to go down the stairs and down the long hallway through the main hall to the front doors. No side entrances here, I’m afraid.”  
“Lead on my prince,” she said.  
He sighed at her use of his title and led the way, muttering something about kings and serving girls. Rosalyn laughed and followed him.   
They fought their way through the fort, finding little resistance as they traveled. Loghain either was confident in his ability to hold them or his troops were scarce. Eamon had mentioned that some of Loghain’s troops had appeared at Redcliffe a few weeks earlier, declaring their intention to defect and join the Warden’s cause.   
As they made it to the front hallway, they were joined by Leliana and Morrigan, who had come to mount a rescue. “You’re okay!” Leliana exclaimed, hugging both of them. “I’m only sorry we didn’t get to try our plan.”  
Morrigan looked at Alistair with a discerning eye, casting a healing spell on him as she noticed the blood dripping from his chest plate. “You are well?” she asked tentatively. Rosalyn’s eyes opened wide as she noticed Morrigan’s regard for Alistair.  
“Fine,” he answered curtly, uncomfortable with her question. “Can we get out of here now?”  
Follow me,” the witch said and led the back to the estate.

The Arl of Redcliffe’s Estate

“Maker be praised! You are alive and well!” Eamon cried as the Wardens entered the study where he and Queen Anora stood to greet them. They had stopped to see Wynne, who examined them and treated Alistair’s wound, cleaning up before entering the study.  
“Indeed, Wardens, it is good to see you well and whole after your ordeal. I owe you a thousand thanks for your help,” said Anora.  
Alistair looked down at Rosalyn, who shrugged. “You are welcome, your highness,” he said. To Eamon he directed his next question, “What’s the plan?”  
“The Queen has some information that I think will be most interesting to you, Rosalyn,” he announced as he deferred to Anora.  
“You are not aware of many things that have been happening since the battle at Ostagar. Much of Denerim has been in a shambles, but nowhere has it been more noticeable than the Alienage. My father has had troops there for months, quelling a so-called rebellion amongst the elves. I believe it to be something more and wish you to look into it, if it is possible.” She looked down at Rosalyn, “It has not escaped my notice that you are from the Alienage yourself, Warden Rosalyn. While I am aware of the circumstances of why you were forced to join the Warden ranks, I am also aware that you have family there still. Will you please check into this?”  
Rosalyn looked up at Alistair, who nodded. Turning back to Anora, she answered, “Yes, your highness. I will go to the Alienage.”  
“Excellent! Then if you do not mind, my lord, I will retire to my rooms to rest. Warden Rosalyn, I should like to speak to you there in private at the earliest opportunity.” With that, Anora swept out of the room, her maid in tow.  
“Interesting conversation,” joked Alistair. “What do you suppose she wants to speak to Lyn about?”  
“I have no idea but I would imagine it has to do with who she will support in the Landsmeet,” said Eamon.  
“Who I will support?” asked a confused and surprised Rosalyn.   
“Indeed, my dear. She is under the impression that you will have a say. It is possible you will.” He looked at her thoughtfully and she cocked her head slightly at his gaze, her eyebrows rising a bit at his words.   
“Then I should go see what she wants, I guess,” replied Rosalyn. She looked up at Alistair, who bent down and kissed her before she left.   
Anora was waiting for her in her chambers, and bade her sit down and make herself comfortable. “Would you like some refreshment, Warden?”  
“Water please, your highness,” she answered. Irlina offered her a glass of water from a tray. Rosalyn noticed it had ice in it. “What did you wish to speak to me about, your highness?”  
“Your voice will be a strong one in the days to come. It is to you that Eamon listens and with good reason.” She cleared her throat and continued, “My father must be stopped and Ferelden needs a ruler. I would welcome your support for my throne.”  
Rosalyn’s eyes grew big at her words, “I don’t think I’m as important as you think, your highness.”  
“No? You are competent and powerful, in the right place at the right time. If used to your advantage, these things could take you far.”  
“So you are proposing an alliance?”  
“Exactly that. When the time comes, I ask that you support my bid in the Landsmeet to remain on the throne. As my father’s enemy, you will be in support of his daughter and the interests of Ferelden as opposed to those of the Grey Wardens. In return, I will add my voice to yours in support of your fight against the Blight.”  
“And what happens to Loghain?”  
“He is my father. If there is a way for him to live, I would prefer it.”  
Rosalyn took a sip of water, considering the Queen’s requests. “Justice must be done, don’t you agree?”  
“I know he must pay for his crimes, but it will not make me glad if he must. Will that affect your decision?”  
“What other aid could you provide?”  
Anora’s eyes grew a little bigger, but she did not falter. “As queen, I will be able to grant you whatever you wish and I shall. Alistair might also be able to grant the same request but I would ask you what you would prefer, the gratitude of a strong queen or a weak king?”  
Rosalyn took another drink of her water and gave her what she wanted. “You will have my support.”  
“Excellent!” she said. “I trust you’ll keep your end of the bargain. Now, I suppose will come the task of dealing with my father, no small feat that. Is there anything else you need of me?”  
“No, your highness. Thank you for the talk and the water. I should go and prepare to return home.” Rosalyn set the glass down on the table in front of her and rose, shaking the Queen’s hand when it was offered.  
“I wish you luck, Warden,” Anora said. Rosalyn nodded and left the room, heading straight for Eamon’s study.

@@@@@

Eamon was a bit shaken by Rosalyn’s admission that she told Anora she would support her bid to become queen. “That goes against everything we are working for, you know.”  
“Perhaps. But then, one thing I have learned about politics is that it is directly related to how well you can lie, not how well you can tell the truth. Believe me or not, I have told her what she wanted to hear,” Rosalyn admitted. “It does not change our plans.”  
Eamon cocked his head as he looked at her. She would have been a fine queen herself if she hadn’t been born an elf. “What now then?”  
“I will go to the Alienage and see what all this is about. We will leave in the morning.” She suddenly felt very tired even though the hour was early. “If you do not need me, I believe I shall retire. It has been a trying day.”  
“Of course, my dear. I will have some supper brought to you and Alistair in your room and will see you in the morning before you leave. Have a pleasant evening.” He bent down and kissed her cheek before she left the room, causing her to blush and smile at him.   
Rosalyn headed for her room, passing a small dining room along the way. In the room, she spied Zevran, Oghren, Leliana and Soris sitting at table playing cards. “Warden!” called out Oghren, “Sit down and play a few hands.”  
“What are you playing?” she asked.  
“Diamondback. It’s a dwarven card game,” answered Leliana.  
“I have heard of it. What are the stakes?” she asked.  
Oghren liked the sound of her talk, “Winner of a hand gets a bottle of wine, losers pay five silver. I got four cases of good Antivan red here. Best you can find.”   
“Come my dear, sit and play a hand or two. Alistair can wait, can he not?” coaxed Zevran.  
Rosalyn sat down and watched Oghren deal a hand. She looked at her cards and discarded two. “I’ll take two, please,” she said.  
She watched Oghren as he dealt the two cards she needed, spying something as he did. After each had received their new cards, they showed their hands. “I win,” said Oghren.  
“Again?” I’m getting really tired of losing, you know,” complained Soris.   
“Deal again, Oghren,” she said, passing him his winnings. He dealt the new hand to them and they discarded their undesirables. “Three this time, please,” she said. “Off the top, if you will.” Oghren’s eyes grew big, but he dealt as she wished.   
When all had been dealt their new cards, they laid them down. “I believe this one’s mine,” Rosalyn told them.   
“Well I’ll be darned! She won!” exclaimed Soris. He reached down into the case and pulled up a bottle of wine and handed it to her. “To the victor, cousin.”  
“Thank you, Soris.” Oghren was noticeable put out by her winning the hand. “Oghren, how much do you want for three bottles of that?”  
“Uhhhh… a favor,” he said.   
“Done. What’s the favor?”   
He leaned towards her. “How did you know I was cheating?”  
She whispered in his ear, “You were using your thumb to hold back the cards. Use another finger and deal from the top. That way your marks won’t suspect anything. Play straight with them tonight though, just for me.” She loaded up the wine. “Thanks for the game!”   
“You got it Warden. Okay, who’s ready to play another?” Oghren asked as Rosalyn left the room with her prizes.   
She headed up to her room and knocked on the door with her foot. “Alistair? Open up, my hands are full!”  
The door opened a moment later to reveal a puzzled Alistair, dressed in only his smallclothes and shirt. “What’s all this?” he asked, taking two bottles from her.  
“I won a bet and this is the prize. Two for you and two for me; it’s your favorite. I owe you a bottle with interest, I think.”  
Alistair looked at the bottle he was holding. “So it is. What do you propose we do with it all?”  
“Well, we could take a bath in it, but I think I’d rather drink it, wouldn’t you?”  
He thought for a moment and a light came on in his head. “I’ll get the glasses.”

@@@@@

Two hours later, they were halfway through the second bottle, sitting on the settee, wearing nothing but their shirts and smallclothes. “So I was sent to the stables that day to work so I wouldn’t be in the way, but I got tired of hiding and went to the gates to see what all the commotion was about,” Alistair was saying.  
“Don’t tell me, something happened,” added Rosalyn, giggling in her wine.  
“I thought that was the point of telling you the story, woman. Hush!” He went on, “So I was up at the gates, standing near the wall, when I was suddenly pushed into the road and out in front of some knights on their horses!”  
“Maker! What happened?”  
She handed him the bottle, “The horses shied away and the one knight in front had to pull as hard as he could on the reins of his huge brown stallion to keep from running over me. I got up and ran as fast as I could to get away, but before I got into the crowd, I turned back to look at the knight.”  
“Who was he?”  
“King Maric, my father. I didn’t know who he was then but he knew me. The look on his face was one of horror. He had nearly killed his own son. Later, I was working in the stable with Aaron when the King and Eamon came to look at the horses there. I had a really dull knife that I had found somewhere and was cutting strips of leather with it to make something when a dagger appeared out of the blue and a voice said, ‘Use this son.” He took another drink from the bottle and handed it to her. “I took the dagger and it cut the strips like butter. When I handed the dagger back, I looked up at the man who had loaned it to me and saw it was the king! I was so flabbergasted that I couldn’t talk, I just handed the dagger back to him. ‘Keep it son,’ he said to me. ‘I think you’ll have more use for it.’ I was so confused I could barely thank him.”  
“And you had no idea he was your father?”  
“None at all. Not until I was sixteen.” He got up and went to his sword belt and pulled out a dagger, coming back to sit down. He handed the dagger to her. “This is it. I still have it.”  
“It’s beautiful.”  
“It matches his sword that we found at Ostagar. You know, the horse my father was riding that day is Felas’ sire.” He took a drink from the bottle and handed it back to her. “You never said what the bet was that got this wine.”  
“That explains Felas’ regal attitude. I caught Oghren cheating at cards and the price of silence was the wine and a lesson on how to cheat better.”  
Alistair laughed hard at her admission. “You know, a few months ago, I might have been totally put out by that statement. Your turn, tell me one about you,” Alistair said. He was flushed with wine and humor.  
Rosalyn took a big drink then handed the bottle back to him. “Let’s see…I was eleven and my best friend was a boy named Micah. His father worked with the smugglers and he had taught Micah a lot about smuggling, pickpocketing and petty theft. What he didn’t know was that Micah had taught it all to me.”  
“Oh no! You didn’t!”  
“I did. One day Soris was complaining that he hadn’t gotten any of the pie that Father had brought home from the Bann’s. It was apple with a flaky, crisp crust that tasted heavenly. Soris had been off somewhere and Shianni and I had eaten all of it. So I decided that we needed another pie. I went down to Alarith’s store and waited until he was really busy, then picked up the pie and bolted. It was easy! I took the pie home and Soris and I ate it while sitting on the doorstep.”  
Alistair took another drink and gave her the bottle, “And you were caught…”  
“Yes. We were caught. Our hahren, Valendrian, found me on the doorstep holding a half empty pie tin and no way to explain it. He told my father when he got home and I got a whipping for it. He was right, though, it was wrong to steal it.”  
“But you still steal from others. I’ve seen you do it,” Alistair pointed out. “There’s a difference?”  
“As far as my father was concerned, there wasn’t. But as I got older I realized that there was and I changed how I did it. I never steal from anyone who can’t afford to lose it. Alarith may have had several pies that day, but he was one of us, a poor Alienage elf making his way in the world. Stealing from him was wrong. Today, when I took the money from Howe’s treasury, I didn’t feel the least bit guilty. He could afford to lose it all.”  
“Not to mention that he was an asshole, right?”  
Rosalyn choked on her drink of wine and began laughing. “Asshole! That’s it; the whole reason for Loghain and Howe and their plotting and scheming. They’re assholes!” She broke out into gales of laughter and leaned against Alistair, who was laughing just as hard.  
“Assholes! All we have to do is wipe them out!” he added and they laughed harder as he put his arms around her and pulled her closer to him. Rosalyn put her arms around him, panting from the exertion of laughing so hard.  
“I think I’m a little drunk,” she admitted, smiling and giggling.  
“I think I am too,” he replied, laughing still. He sobered a little and asked, “So what now?”  
Rosalyn shifted her position and straddled his lap. “How drunk are you?” she asked.  
“Not that drunk,” he answered, his arms coming around her.  
“Show me,” she ordered; and he did.

@@@@@

The next morning, Rosalyn was up and at the chamber pot at dawn, her stomach woozy from too much wine and laughter. “No headache,” she thought, “Not so bad this time.” She thought about the last time she’d drank too much; she was still with Dallan and they’d ended up in bed doing things they could never confess in a million years. It had been liberating and eye opening for her at the same time and had spelled the end of her relationship with him as he announced his engagement the next day. She turned back to the pot for another go.  
“I think it’s my turn,” she heard him say and she turned around to see him sitting up, his face a little green. “I really need to go.”  
Rosalyn laughed and finished, giving up the chamber pot to her anxious lover, who arrived quickly and stayed late. She returned to the bed and burrowed under the covers, absorbing his leftover warmth. When he had finished, he took a big drink of water and ate a piece of leftover bread from their dinner the night before. “Better?” she asked as he joined her back in the bed.  
“I had forgotten that one of the reasons I like the Antivan wine is its kick. I don’t have to drink so much, but I always do. What about you?” he asked as he drew her into his arms.  
“No headache but my stomach…ugh!” He laughed then and kissed the top of her head.   
“And we can’t stay abed all day and recover, either. Homecoming today.”  
“That seems so strange to say now. It’s been nearly a year since I was there and yet it seems like yesterday. I don’t fear it like I did before though.”  
“You don’t? You are still with a human man, you know.”  
“Yes, and I always will be, too. They will have to get used to it. Soris thinks that while Shianni will say something, Father will be happy I found someone. I hope that’s the case,” she explained.  
“He’ll be excited you are alive, love. That should outweigh everything. And I will be a perfect gentleman and offer him my hand in friendship and my protection. It will work out,” he replied. “I love you, Lyn. That should be enough for him.”  
“I love you too, and I pray you are right. When do you want to leave?”  
“Soon. We don’t know what we’ll find.” He sat up, “So I guess we will forgo the morning lovemaking in favor of introductions.”  
“Introductions?”  
“Yup. Get dressed and we’ll go eat. I’m starved.” He kissed her and got out of bed, roaming around the room looking for his clothes and armor. Rosalyn located most of them and then dressed herself, helping him with his armor. She laughed as she noticed how much care he was taking with his appearance and grooming. He’d purchased a new shirt and breeks for the occasion.   
Rosalyn made sure she was just as clean and polished and together they headed for the dining room where they found Oghren, Wynne, Sten and Morrigan enjoying a lite breakfast. “Good morning!” he chirped and was answered with a cheery “Good morning” from Wynne and grunts from the others.   
“Come with me,“ Alistair said, taking Rosalyn’s hand and leading her into the kitchen. A large table was set up against the back wall where a young blond girl was kneading what looked like bread on a board. Alistair led her to the table, tapping the girl on the shoulder. “Mari?”  
The girl turned around and gasped, “Alistair! Maker bless you, you’re here!” She threw herself into his arms and he hugged her tight.  
“I told you I’d be back to check on you as soon as I could,” he told her as he released her.  
“You’re looking well. Gained some weight, I see.”  
“You think so?” he asked as he looked down at his stomach. “There’s someone I want you to meet,” he reached down and took Rosalyn’s hand and didn’t let go, “Mari, this is Rosalyn.”  
“Maker! She is beautiful!” Mari took her other hand and held it in both hers. “I’m so happy to meet you at last. Alistair told me all about you when he was here a few months ago.”  
Rosalyn smiled and looked up at Alistair, who smiled his proudest grin. She turned back to Mari, “Thank you. I’m so pleased to meet you too. Alistair has told me so many good things about you. Thank you for all you’ve done.”  
Mari blushed as she thought of her time with Alistair. “Oh! You are so welcome. He’s a good boy and lucky, I can tell.” She looked up at Alistair and took a deep breath. “I’m getting married.”  
“You’re what?” he asked, stunned.  
“Married. To Manuel from the stable. He doesn’t care a whit about what I was and wants me. I told him I couldn’t say yes until you met him. Please like him!”  
“Hmmm…Manuel. Manny? I remember him; tall, red haired kid, skinny. He’s okay, I guess.” Alistair looked down at Rosalyn, “We grew up together. He used to share his blanket with me in the winter when the others wouldn’t.”  
Mari grabbed his hand and drug him out the door. “I’ll be right back,” he said as she pulled him out the door. Rosalyn laughed and went back to the dining room where Zevran, Soris and Leliana sat in the vacated chairs of Sten, Morrigan and Oghren. She sat down and poured herself a cup of tea while the servant served her some porridge and eggs. It was a happy day.

@@@@@

Alistair returned about twenty minutes later with Mari in tow. “He likes him! Maker, I was so afraid he’d hate him.” She threw herself into Alistair’s arms again and kissed his cheek. He laughed when she began to turn red from embarrassment. “Please forgive me,” she told Rosalyn.  
Rosalyn stood up and hugged the girl and kissed her cheek. “There’s nothing to forgive. Maker grant you joy in your marriage Mari.” She hugged her again, looking up at Alistair and winking. “Let us know when the wedding is.”  
“Soon, I hope, but I think we’ll have to wait for all this hubbub to die down. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to get back to my bread.” She took off for the kitchen.   
“I’ll be right back.” Alistair said. “Fill my plate, will you, love?”  
A few minutes later, he was back, eating his breakfast. “I hate it when she cries,” he said.  
“What was that last about?” she asked.  
“I took her back out to Manny and warned them both about the Blight. If the horde gets close, they will head to White Cliffs and wait there. I gave him a letter for my steward that will insure they have work there if they want it. If they have to escape Ferelden, they can take ship there. Teagan has sent for all our ships to rendezvous there in anticipation of a mass exodus. I made sure they will have a passage.”  
Rosalyn smiled and kissed his cheek. “You are sweet. I’ll be sure to show you how much later,” she whispered. He smiled and kissed her back before digging into his breakfast again.  
Thirty minutes later, they rounded up Leliana and Soris and headed to Eamon’s study where he was deep in thought at his desk. “Wardens! Ready to head out, I see.”  
“Yes, my lord. Is there any more news?” Alistair asked.  
“The Alienage gates were opened this morning, thanks to a well-placed bribe and some well-heeled threats. Howe’s death changed most of the plans that Loghain had in place and stopped quite a few more from forming. He has no one who’s connected well enough to carry them out. A most advantageous development for us.”  
“Indeed,” agreed Rosalyn.  
“Then we had best get going. I’m not sure how long we will be gone, my lord. There are troops ready if needed?” asked Alistair.  
“Yes. I have three dozen men in wait if I need them. If I don’t hear from you by this time tomorrow, I will send them in to find you. Maker watch over you all,” Eamon replied as they left the room.   
Alistair stopped in the hallway, “Damn. I forgot my dagger. I’ll meet you in the front hall.” He took off for their room.   
Rosalyn waited until he was out of sight. “I’ll be back. Wait in the hall for me too. Tell Alistair I was detained for a moment. They nodded and went on while she reentered the study and closed the door.  
“I was hoping you’d get a moment, my dear. Teagan sends his best and says that all the necessary plans have been made and the plan is a go.” Eamon grew quiet and looked down at her. “Are you sure this is what you want?”  
“Yes, my lord. It is the only way to effectively guarantee the safety of the country and insure Alistair’s safety too. It will work,” she answered.  
“Very well. I will play my part and so will Teagan. Be safe, my dear.” She smiled and left the room to meet Alistair and the others in the entry hall.  
“Where were you?” he asked.  
“Chamber pot again,” she answered slyly.  
“Ugh! Don’t remind me,” he replied. “Ready to go.”   
“Let’s go,” she answered and led the way out the door, on her way home.

The Alienage

Rosalyn stopped at the Alienage gate and took a deep breath. She could already smell the decay and fetid smell that permeated everything in the district. Alistair put out a hand and stopped Soris and Leliana, telling them to hang back. “Ready?” he asked her.  
“I…don’t know. I thought I was but now I’m not so sure,” she turned to look up at him. “The girl that Duncan took from the Alienage a year ago isn’t the girl that’s coming back. I’m not sure how to think about it now.”  
Alistair smiled and put his hands on her shoulders, “Lyn, when you left the Alienage a year ago, you were a clever and pretty girl with a sword and a bow. You are returning as a smart and beautiful woman who knows when to use them well and when not to. It’s that woman I fell in love with and that woman they will love too. You can do this.”   
“As long as you are here,” she replied, throwing herself into his arms. He bent and kissed her hard with a promise of the future and released her. Putting out his hand for her to take he said, “Let do this.” She took his hand and they walked through the gate together.  
Alistair had admitted that he had never been to the Alienage before, only past the main gate. He wasn’t prepared for what he saw there. Sick and injured elves were lying all around, under porches and stairs, while others milled around the street, begging for food and water. Rosalyn pulled out her purse as did Alistair, giving them to Leliana to distribute among those most needy. She agreed and formed a line to pass out all they had until it was gone. There wasn’t close to enough.  
As he walked through the street, he was most struck by the smell; decaying animals and garbage mostly, but he was sure there was the odd decaying body amongst the overpowering smells. Rosalyn could tell he was getting ill. “Do you need a minute?”  
“I’m all right. It’s just…well, you know,” he answered reluctantly. She nodded.  
Indeed she did know, and know well. Soris spoke to several people he knew and several came to greet Rosalyn and him as they walked down the street. They recognized her as a Warden and were pleased to see her there. Others remembered that day the year before when their troubles started and blamed her. She held her head up and kept going despite the vicious comments and calls of “Shem lover! Go home shemlen!”  
In the center of the district stood the Vhenadahl, the Tree of the People. Rosalyn and Soris placed their hands on the tree as they had been taught and received the blessing of the spirit that inhabited it. Rosalyn took Alistair’s hand and placed it on the tree, covering it with her own. She closed her eyes and thought of the two of them together. Alistair closed his eyes as she did and then smiled. A small burst of energy entered him through his hand and he felt as if he had received a blessing or benediction. “Did you feel that?” he asked.  
Rosalyn smiled broadly as his exclamation, “You have received the blessing of the spirit upon you, love. That’s a very good thing. It means you will be accepted amongst our kind. It also means that there is some elf blood in you somewhere.”  
“It does? Huh. Must be my mother’s side,” he answered. He placed his hand back on the tree and closed his eyes then smiled a sweet smile. “Must be.”  
Soris and Leliana had also received the blessing and as a result, several people who had hung back from them came forward to greet them and thank them for their work. Alistair was grateful that he could help these people even a little and vowed that he was find a way to help them more.   
There was a commotion at the end of the square and they turned to see what it was about. A young, pretty elven woman with hair the color of Rosalyn’s was raising a racket at some mages who were standing outside guarded building. Soris looked at Rosalyn and shook his head. “We’d better go stop her before she gets into more trouble.”  
Rosalyn smiled and agreed. “Come on.”

@@@@@

“Who is it?” asked Leliana.  
“Our cousin. She’s always into something and it seems that today is no exception,” answered Soris. “Someday she’ll end up in jail.”  
“I’ve got children at home! I can’t wait another day!” yelled one woman.  
The pretty red haired girl who looked much like Rosalyn continued for her, “So go home! The best thing you can do for your children is not to trust these charlatans!”  
One of the mages pleaded with the crowd, “We will help as many as we can today, so long as we can do this in an orderly fashion.”  
“Helping? What happened to Valendrian and my uncle Cyrion? You helped them, didn’t you? Helped them never to be seen again!”  
Rosalyn’s eyes grew bigger at the mention of her father’s name. “What does she mean ‘what happened to uncle Cyrion and Valendrian?”   
Alistair sensed her worry and fear and put out his hand to take hers. “We’ll find out, love.”  
The mage shook his head at Shianni, “We’ve explained this to you before girl. Stop whining and get you gone!”  
“Shianni?” Rosalyn asked.  
“Roz? Maker’s breath! We all thought you dead with the others at Ostagar! Valendrian held a funeral for you. She threw her arms around her cousins and wept with relief. “Soris! Where did you go? We’ve been looking for you for months!”  
“I went to Highever but I couldn’t stay there. I had to come back and then I was locked out,” Soris answered.  
Shianni looked at Rosalyn and hugged her again. “How did you survive?” she asked her. “We heard no Grey Wardens lived.”  
“I had help,” Rosalyn answered, looking up at Alistair, who smiled down at her.   
Shianni’s eyes narrowed a bit, “So I see. Let’s hope its help we can use.”  
“This is Alistair, Shianni. He is a Warden too. That’s Leliana, she’s a friend and companion who’s also helping us.”  
“Pleased to meet you,” Shianni answered gruffly. “Roz, can you help us?”  
“What’s going on?” asked Alistair. “Where’s your uncle?”  
Shianni got quiet and put her hand in Rosalyn’s. “He was taken by the Tevinters yesterday. I told him not to go, but he did. Every elf they take in there never comes out. The thing is, they take more healthy people than sick. A blight sickness, they call it. Refugees brought sickness with them but it’s just ordinary colds and flu, not a blight sickness!”  
“There are no reports of blight sickness anywhere. There’s something very wrong here,” Alistair pointed out. “I want a look inside that building.”  
“They won’t let you just walk in there, you know. Shem or no.”  
“Shianni,” scolded Rosalyn. “Alistair’s right; let’s look around. Keep them distracted out here for us.”  
Shianni hugged Rosalyn again then turned to Alistair. “I’m…I’m sorry about that…Alistair. I’m not very good at holding my tongue sometimes.” She smiled weakly at him and he noticed just how pretty she really was.  
Alistair brushed it off, “No worries, Shianni. I guess I’d better get used to that now. How’s the best way to get in?”  
“There’s a door at the back with a single guard. Maker watch over you all,” Shianni said then turned to harry the mages again.  
Soris and Rosalyn laughed and shook their heads at her and led the way to the back of the building and the guard.

Chasing the Slavers

Soris recognized the guard as a former schoolmate. “Lalan? What are you doing here? I thought you were with the army.”  
“My unit was destroyed by the Darkspawn so I came back here. What do you want, Soris?” Lalan answered.  
“We’d like to go in there.”  
“Well, you can’t, so just go back to the front.”  
Leliana smelled an angle, “Aren’t you afraid of getting the plague?”  
“I’m being paid well enough. Dying of hunger is a worse death.”  
“Will you let us go in for six sovereigns?” she asked.  
Lalan held out his hand, “For six I never saw you and you never saw me.” He took off, handing Soris the key and taking his money.  
“I knew he was easy. Always was,” Soris commented as he unlocked the door.  
They drew their weapons as they entered, finding an empty room and four armed guards. They made short work of the guards and looked around. Rosalyn discovered a desk and bags of money along with invoices and notes referring to shipments of live cargo. “Alistair? What’s this?” she asked, fearing his answer.  
He thumbed through the documents, “Maker damn them! They’re slavers! They’ve been taking people through here and selling them to Tevinter slavers.”  
Rosalyn became very pale and sat down on a bench near the wall, her hand coming to her mouth. “Father. Oh Maker! What will become of him!” She hung her head and Alistair knew she blamed herself for everything. “If I had just let him have me, all this could have been avoided!”  
Alistair grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her roughly up to look at him, “No! You won’t say that! You did what you had to do! If you had said yes, all this would have happened sooner or later. You couldn’t have prevented it.”  
She nodded meekly and he took her in his arms. “Check that room. I’ll take this as evidence.” Soris and Leliana entered the room with swords drawn.  
“Alistair, Roz? Come see this,” called Soris. They followed his voice into the room.   
Cages lined the walls filled with elves of all ages. Most were ill and many looked to have been beaten and ill-used. “Get them out of there,” ordered Alistair.  
Soris and Rosalyn picked the locks and Leliana led the people out the back door where they could run to safety. One young elven man stayed behind. “Thank you, Wardens,” he said.  
Rosalyn spoke to him, “Iben? It’s Rosalyn. Where is my father?”  
“Rosalyn Tabris? Maker, we thought you dead at Ostagar! They took your father out the back just a few hours ago. We think they are moving them out through the apartments and warehouses beyond to the docks and a ship. If you hurry, you might catch them.” He ran out the door with the other elves.  
Alistair tucked the last of the papers from the desk into his belt pouch. “Let’s get them,” he said angrily, as he headed for the back door. Rosalyn followed him and let him lead.

@@@@@

Making their way through the back alley, they came upon a door hidden behind some crates. Soris slipped behind and forced it open to find a dark hallway beyond, leading into a warehouse. Looking down he spied something and picked it up. “This came from someone’s clothing. See the embroidery?” He handed the cloth to Rosalyn to look at.  
“They went in there then.” Alistair sheathed his sword and put down his shield and began to pull the crates away from the door. When he had cleared the way, he picked up his shield and drew his sword again. “Ready?” he asked.  
Rosalyn drew her bow and nocked an arrow tainted with her best poison. “I’m ready.” She took a deep breath, fearing the worst and followed him in.  
What followed was a room by room search of warehouse apartments. “Many of the local warehouses have been converted to apartments to help ease overcrowding. It doesn’t help,” Soris told them.  
Alistair shook his head as he saw the squalor, “Where is everyone? I haven’t seen anyone since we freed those last elves.”  
“Perhaps they’ve run away or….” Leliana trailed off when she saw Rosalyn’s face and didn’t finish. They kept moving, eventually finding a door that led out of the warehouse apartments and into a small, enclosed outside area. They were met by several guards wearing Tevinter armor.  
“Wait! We received no word there was another shipment,” the leader told them. He looked them up and down as he considered who they were.   
Rosalyn drew her bow and nocked an arrow, shooting it at a bowman who stood to the back of the group. He dropped dead with it imbedded in his chest. “We aren’t with the slavers,” she told him, cool and steady as she nocked a second arrow. “Where are the people you took out of the hospice?” She aimed the arrow for a spot between the man’s legs.  
“I’m not telling you anything, knife ear! Sod off!”  
Rosalyn loosed the arrow without hesitation, planting it in the man’s thigh near his groin. She had another nocked before he could finish screaming. “You were saying?” she asked coldly.  
“Through that door!” He pointed to a small door in an adjoining building and moaned. “Blood flames, that hurts!”  
“The rest of you put your weapons down and leave. We have no quarrel with you,” Alistair commanded. The men dropped their weapons and put up their hands, walking slowly into the warehouse from where they had come. All that was left was the injured man lying on the ground. “Can you walk?” he asked the man. The man nodded and Alistair helped him up. Leliana dressed his wound and disarmed him. He limped slowly to the warehouse door and disappeared within. As the door shut, Rosalyn loosed her drawn arrow and it struck the door, embedding itself deep in the wood. She slumped from the exertion of keeping the arrow drawn so long.  
Alistair gave her time to recover her strength, offering her water and a potion, which she took. Soris went through the discarded weapons and replaced his own bow with one he found as well as pocketing a few daggers and knives. The rest he let lay. He looked over at Rosalyn, “Roz? We need to go.”  
“Yes,” was all she said as she led the way to the next door, her bow at the ready.

@@@@@

Alistair entered the building first with Soris and Leliana following. Rosalyn brought up the rear per Alistair’s request as she hadn’t completely recovered from tangling with the guard outside.  
They were met by several guards led by a female elven rogue. “What is the meaning of this? We were told there would be in interference from the authorities.”  
“Do we really look like the authorities?” asked a disgusted Rosalyn.  
“You look like an elf with more curiosity than sense. We have been given dispensation to do business here but I am curious to know what brought you here?”  
“I’ll explain myself to whoever’s in charge.”  
The rogue laughed, “You wish to parley? An elf?” She considered the group carefully before reaching her decision. “Very well, I’ll take you to Caladrius to decide your fate.” The rogue led them through several doors until they reached a large room with several cages lining the walls. There were several guards and warriors surrounding a single mage dressed in Tevinter style mage robes.  
“What seems to be the problem, Devera?” the mage asked, his tone sounding annoyed. He slinked towards them like a cat stalking a bird.  
“These intruders fought their way in and claim they only wish to talk to whoever is in charge,” replied Devera.  
The mage shook his head in disbelief. “So you brought the Grey Wardens here, including the bastard who would be king. Really Devera!”  
“A lowlife slaver calls me a bastard. Can I kill him?” asked an appalled Alistair.  
“Easy love, we need to ask him some questions; then you can kill him,” scolded Rosalyn.  
“Oh, all right,” he replied, disgusted.  
“Interesting. One hardly gets anything out the regent except ‘Grey Warden’ any more. It seems that you might be able to use my help in your little endeavor,” Caladrius explained.  
“Help?” answered a surprised Rosalyn.  
Caladrius slinked closer to them, “There was always a limit to how much time we would be able to conduct business here. Even though we’ve paid for many of Loghain’s troops, the Landsmeet is…inconvenient. So for one hundred sovereigns from you, I will provide you a letter with the seal of the Teyrn of Gwaren implicating him in all of this. I will leave a few days early with my slaves, unharmed.”  
Soris looked at Rosalyn, a shocked look on his face, “You aren’t seriously considering this, are you?”  
“One hundred sovereigns and you leave the letter and the elves,” she countered.  
“No. That wouldn’t be possible. There would be no profit in that. You understand.”  
Alistair looked down at her, “Can I kill him now?”  
“Yes, love. You can kill him now.” She drew out her bow and quickly shot arrows into the guards surrounding Caladrius while Alistair charged. He called his power and drained the mage’s mana several times, preventing him from using blood magic and sacrificing his troops. Leliana and Soris took out Devera and the outside troops while Rosalyn took out the troops nearest Caladrius, then she and Leliana turned their bows on the mage when the others were incapacitated to keep him down as Alistair finished him off.   
Soris and Leliana scoured the bodies, located the keys to the cages and let the elves out to escape. As he opened the last cage Soris exclaimed, “Uncle Cyrion!”  
Rosalyn ran to his side and embraced her father, crying with joy. “My little girl…I didn’t think I ever see you again! How I prayed that you had survived and here you are!” he exclaimed. His arms went around her and then Soris. “Soris, you scamp!”  
“I couldn’t let them have you. You know that,” Rosalyn answered him as she kissed his cheek.  
“We need to get out of here, Lyn. We don’t know if there are any others,” encouraged Alistair.  
“Father, this is Alistair. He’s a Grey Warden too, and…a wonderful friend.” The last she said with great pride, putting her hand in Alistair’s. He smiled down at her.  
“How do you do, ser. I am very happy to finally meet you,” replied Alistair, offering his hand.   
Cyrion looked down at the offered hand and slowly took it, shaking it weakly. “It seems much has happened since you left, child. Let’s get home so I can hear the story.”

@@@@@

Home had changed little since Rosalyn had gone. She spent the first minutes of her visit walking around and checking to see if everything was where she left it, causing Alistair and Soris to laugh and Cyrion to complain, “Rosalyn, sit down, girl. You have time to do that later. Tell me what you’ve been up to.” The last he directed towards Alistair as he was most interested in finding out all about him.   
Alistair stood up from the table and went to the cupboard where she was going through the shelves. “There’s no food here. Maker! How do they expect me to make something to eat if there’s no food?”  
“Stop that! Your father wants to talk to us so come and talk.” He took her hand and guided her to the table and pushed her in the chair he had vacated. He stood behind her, waiting. “So tell him.”  
She told Cyrion the whole story of Ostagar, Redcliffe, the Circle Tower, the Brecilian Forest and Orzammar. She thought it best to leave out the Deep Roads and their various injuries. Soris would no doubt tell on her later. Shianni was amazed that she had seen so much. “You must be famous now!”  
“I suppose you could say that but it’s not in a good way, cousin. Uhhhh…there’s a price on my head, I afraid,” she replied.  
“Oh, we heard about that. Some soldiers came sniffing around here a couple of months after you left. We couldn’t tell them anything since we didn’t even know if you were alive.”  
“What coat of arms were they under?” asked a very curious Alistair.  
Shianni thought for a bit. “Some sort of bear. They were hard men, worse than the Arl’s.”  
Rosalyn looked up at Alistair then back at Shianni, “Howe’s men. They won’t be back, we saw to that.”   
“Where are you staying, child?” asked Cyrion.  
“At the Arl of Redcliffe’s estate, off the market district. He’s Alistair’s uncle so we can stay there. It’s a good place to hide and we’re protected. The Wardens may be popular with the people but they aren’t with the regent,” answered Rosalyn. “We’d like to stay here tonight if we can, Father. I wanted to show Alistair around a bit while I’m here. I don’t know when I’ll be able to get back and I want to spend as much time as I can with you.”  
“Of course, child. Stay as long as you want. I’ll go get something special for dinner and you and Shianni can fix it for us.”  
“Umm…Cyrion, ser? My I accompany you? I’d like to look around and speak to you, if I can.” Alistair had a pleading look in his eyes as he spoke.  
“Of course…son. Please do,” Cyrion answered as he rose from the table.   
Alistair looked down at Rosalyn who stood to help him with his buckles. “I think, I’ll forgo the plate for a while,” he declared. She undid his greaves and arm guards and set them down. He rebuckled his sword belt and grabbed his shield. “Much better. Shall we, ser?” Soris unbuckled his armor and laid it down also. He gestured to the door and Cyrion led the way with Alistair and Soris following close behind.  
Shianni couldn’t wait until they had left, pouncing on Rosalyn, “Okay, spill. Who is he really? He’s dreamy for a shem…ummm…human.”  
“He’s a Grey Warden and my mentor in the order. We met at Ostagar and have been together ever since,” she answered coyly.  
“Mentor? What happened to that Duncan fellow?” She stopped as the look on Rosalyn’s face told her everything. “I’m sorry Roz. He was a nice man.”  
“He was and he shouldn’t have died like he did. Alistair and I…well…we are close, Shianni. Very close. We’re…” she paused as she collected her words.  
“Don’t worry. We can all see it. He loves you and you love him. I’m glad! Really! Even Uncle Cyrion sees it. Many won’t agree with it, Roz, but I think you know that. I like him!”  
“You do? You were the one I was most worried about.”  
“I suppose I have good cause to but I don’t; at least not for you. You’re a Grey Warden and things like that are to be expected. It’s not like there are many others for you to be with. Right?”  
Rosalyn smiled and laughed. “He wasn’t my last option, Shianni, but I understand. Our life is hard and it’s nice to have someone to share it with. I don’t even see him as a human and he doesn’t see me as an elf. We’re just people.”  
Shianni got that mischievous look that Rosalyn loved so well, “I can live with that. So…tell me. How is he?”

@@@@@

Cyrion returned with Alistair and Soris about an hour later, talking of plans and duties. “Horses, you say, and fishing?”  
“Yes, ser. The fishing is very good around there so there’s a large fleet. The horses are just something I was interested in, having grown up with them. Seems they are a profitable investment too. You should see Lyn’s mare.” Alistair told him. “She was sired by one of King Maric’s stallions; a fine brood mare she is.”  
Cyrion was enthralled, “Amazing. I am most interested in the position if I may say so. Bann Rodolf is old and ill and will not be around for much longer. His son is not interested in keeping his Denerim estate since he married the Antivan girl. Yes…I think I’d like that very much, Alistair.”  
“You are most welcome, ser. I would see that you are provided for. I owe that to Rosalyn and much more.” His eyes fell upon her as she and Shianni worked in the kitchen. She blushed from his regard causing Shianni to giggle. “So it’s settled then?”  
“It’s settled. I’ll go as soon as I tell the Bann, a week at most to arrange transportation and pack,” Cyrion answered, holding out his hand.  
Alistair took it and smiled. “Wonderful. I’ll see you get a wagon and driver and some men to help you pack.” He looked over at Rosalyn. “What’s for dinner? Soris and I are starving.”  
Shianni put up her hand, “Oh no you don’t. Both of you go wash at the pump before you come near my clean table. Get going!”  
Soris stood up and headed for the door, “Some people never change,” he grumbled.  
“I see where Lyn gets it,” commented Alistair as he followed, making Cyrion laugh as he sat down.   
“Oh no you don’t, uncle. You go wash too. Company tonight.” Cyrion reluctantly joined the men outside, grabbing a towel as he left.  
After dinner there was wine and talk with Alistair telling them stories from the road and Rosalyn telling them about their mission. Cyrion, Shianni and Soris shared stories of Rosalyn as a girl. When the wine was gone, Rosalyn excused herself and went into the bedroom for some time alone.   
Sitting in the corner was the trunk, right where she had left it. She stared at it for a long while before finally kneeling down in front of it, caressing the outside. Her mother had given it to her when she was young as a place to keep her possessions. Adaia had decorated and painted the outside with halla, trees and birds in the Dalish fashion. Rosalyn pulled out the amulet that Alistair had given her and slipped it off her neck. A small key dangled from it and she used it to unlock the lock on the trunk before slipping the amulet back over her head, kissing it before she did.  
She opened the trunk and it was still there, folded neatly on top; her wedding dress, covered in dried and browned blood. Smears covered it in several spots where she had brushed up against something bloody and there was a large patch on the front where Nelaros’ head had lain, his blood oozing from his wounds. Over the heart was a small patch where blood had dropped from above; her blood. She looked down at her hand where she had made the cut, finding no scar. The Vhenadahl had healed her there.   
Tears streamed from her eyes as she remembered that day and all the chaos and violence it had caused. She picked up the dress and hugged it and wished for it to have been a dream, knowing it couldn’t be.   
“You can’t wish it away, Lyn.” Alistair stood in the doorway where he had been for a while, she knew. He shut the door behind him and came to kneel down beside her. “I want to wash it all clean for you, but you know I can’t any more than you can.” His fingers came out and stroked the dress she held, so soft in his hand.  
“It’s my wedding dress. I was wearing it that day when I escaped the estate. It has the blood of Nelaros, Mya, Shianni; even Vaughan’s.” She pointed to the small spots at the top, “That’s mine; a blood vow. I promised I’d never forget.”  
“You must have been so beautiful that day. I wish I could have seen you in it, before.”  
She shook her head. “No. I looked like a skinny Alienage girl.”  
“I happen to love skinny Alienage girls, I’ll have you know. Especially you.”  
“I love you too. That’s why I was crying.” She smoothed out the dress with her hand. “This had to happen so I would find you. I know that now. I just wish it could have been easier for everyone.”  
Alistair drew her back against him and held her tightly. “You know, I’ve seen the Alienage, thanks to your father. What I haven’t seen is what you did for fun when you were a child. Show me.”  
She laughed a little and wiped her tears with the back of her hand, “Rat killing, huh? Did you bring your bow?”  
“I did,” he said as he kissed her.

@@@@@

After dark, Rosalyn and Alistair climbed to the roof using the ladder at the back of the house. The house was tall enough that they could see most of the Alienage and out over several sections of the walls around the district. At the top of the house was a flat spot that was wide enough for two people to sit comfortably and lie down if they wished.   
Just at the back of the house was the garbage dump where many of the homes in the area dumped their trash. Both of them were armed with bows and lots of arrows and Alistair carried a bottle of Antivan red wine he’d bought at Alarith’s store for them as well as a sugar cake as a surprise.  
“This is high up. I thought you hated heights?” he asked as he settled himself.  
“I do, but this never seemed high to me,” she answered. “Right down there is where they’ll be. Father says they are bad right now so this should be easy.”  
Alistair put his bow across his lap and looked down at the trash heap. “If someone told me a year ago that I would fall in love and end up on a roof in the Alienage shooting rats, I would have told them they were nuts.”  
“And if someone told me that I would fall in love with a prince and end up in the Deep Roads and the Brecilian Forest, I would have asked if I could have some of what they were having.”  
He laughed at her comment. “True enough, love. We aren’t a typical match, that’s for sure. I’d never have it any other way.”  
“Me either.” She squinted at the trash heap and asked him. “Father really likes the idea of your job offer. He’s down there now, making plans and packing. Did you tell him Soris will inherit?”  
“Not yet. Soris said not to. I think he wants to tell him.” He cleared his throat, “He asked me about us, though.”  
Rosalyn’s eyebrows rose, “Oh?”  
“He wanted to know what my intentions were. I told him I loved you and that I had asked you to marry me but you hadn’t given me an answer.”  
“And what did Father say to that?”  
“He said he knew a good matchmaker if I was interested. We could seal it all up tight and you’d have to tell me yes.”  
“He didn’t! Why that old swindler! I ought to…”  
Alistair laughed hard at her reaction. “He was joking but I think he’d like to see it happen. Marrying his daughter off to a bann would be quite the thing for him.”  
Rosalyn agreed, “It would, but you won’t be the bann, Soris will.” She pulled an arrow out of her quiver and nocked it. “There,” she pointed. She loosed the arrow and it struck the rat, throwing it against a crate. “One for me.”  
“Wow! I didn’t even see it! Seems I have my work cut out for me tonight.” He pulled an arrow and nocked it, aiming slowly at a rat climbing into a box. Loosing the arrow, he cursed as it missed its target, lodging in a sack. “Damn.”  
She smiled, “It’s not easy. When we first came up here, it took us weeks to get one. Before long we were getting a dozen every time.”  
Alistair stroked the bow as it lay across his lap, “Lyn, why won’t you marry me?”  
Rosalyn’s head snapped up at his question and she was speechless. He waited patiently for her answer. “I…I…I’m scared.”  
“Scared of what? Me?”  
“Yes. Mostly for you though.”  
“Why are you scared for me?”  
“People I love get ripped away from me. I couldn’t bear it if you were ripped away too.”  
He considered what she said for a bit. “But you are still with me; living and sleeping together every day. I could still be taken from you but I haven’t been.” He took her hands and looked at the rings on her fingers, wedding rings both of them. “Take a chance, Lyn.”  
“A chance?”  
“On me. I might just surprise you by sticking around for the rest of your life.”  
“So it’s bet then.”  
“Yes. I bet you I can stick around for the rest of your life and mine.”  
She cocked her head at him, “And what do I bet in return.”  
“Yourself.”  
Rosalyn thought for a moment and realized he was right. Either one of them could die tomorrow. If they did, the other would regret the time they’d missed. That would be the worst pain. “Yes. I’ll marry you. It’s a deal.”  
Alistair blinked once then blinked again. “Really? You will?”  
“I will.”  
“Maker’s breath I love you! When?”  
“Can we get through all this first? The Landsmeet? Then I will, I promise, no matter what.”  
“It’s a deal.” He took her in his arms and sealed that promise several times, and only one rat died that night.

@@@@@

Rosalyn and Alistair spent all night on the roof, only coming down when the sun was newly up. Rosalyn ran to retrieve their arrows before taking Alistair’s hand and walking into the house together.   
Cyrion was sitting at the table, reading a handbill when they entered. He looked up and smiled, “So there you are. Up all night, I see. Sit down and eat, you both look famished.”  
“Good morning Father.” Rosalyn bent down and kissed him on the cheek before taking the chair across from him, next to Alistair.  
“Good morning, ser,” Alistair said as he reached for some cheese.  
“I have something I think you will be interested in, son.” Cyrion handed the handbill to Alistair. Rosalyn leaned over and read it too.  
“Crap. That seals it now.” He looked over at Cyrion. “I’m sorry, ser. I hope this doesn’t affect you and your family too.”  
Shianni looked over Alistair’s shoulder, “One hundred sovereigns! Are you really worth that much?”  
Rosalyn shook her head. “I don’t think I am but Alistair, yes.” She looked over at him, “What do you want to do?”  
“We should get out of here and back to the estate as soon as possible. They can protect us there.”  
“So why is Alistair worth that much and you aren’t?” asked Shianni.  
Soris opened his mouth to say something but closed it at a look from Rosalyn. “It’s up to you to tell them, if you want them to know,” she said to Alistair.  
“Uhhhh…because I could be king,” he told them, meekly.  
“King? You? How?” asked a stunned Shianni.  
Rosalyn answered for him, “Alistair’s father was King Maric. His mother was a serving girl at Redcliffe Castle. He’s been hidden all these years because he was considered a threat to the throne. Now he’s a Grey Warden and they still think he’s dangerous, hence the reward.”  
“I’m no threat, trust me. I don’t even want to be king.” Alistair was noticeably uncomfortable with his new family knowing so much about him so quickly but he knew they would have to know sooner or later.  
“You had better get out of here soon then, daughter. We will be all right. No one here will take the money as they wouldn’t pay us anyway. Besides, I believe that may be what the guards standing outside the house are for. They arrived earlier and have come to escort you back to the Arl’s estate. So eat your breakfast and get going.” Cyrion poured himself a cup of tea as Rosalyn and Alistair looked at each other in amazement.  
“You knew all the time, didn’t you?” she asked him.  
“You think I wouldn’t?”   
Alistair laughed, “Now I see where her sneakiness comes from.” Everyone laughed at how true it was.   
Once they had eaten, Alistair and Rosalyn donned their armor and prepared to leave. Shianni kissed them both goodbye, whispering in Alistair’s ear, “Did she say yes yet?”  
“She did, finally,” he answered.  
“Wonderful! You’ll have to tell us when it is so we can all come. Maker keep you Alistair.”  
“Maker keep you Shianni.” He hugged her and kissed her cheek, making her blush.  
“Farewell Father. Let us know through Arl Eamon when you get to White Cliffs,” Rosalyn’s eyes teared up as she hugged him.   
“I have something for you, child.” He pulled a dagger from his belt and handed it to her. “It was your mother’s. In all the commotion, I didn’t get to give it to you earlier. Use it well and may the Maker and the Gods watch over you both. Take care of each other.”  
“Thank you, Father. I’ll use it well.”  
“Maker watch over you, ser, and thank you for all you’ve done.” Alistair was touched by their acceptance of him. He took Rosalyn’s hand again and looked at Soris. “Coming cousin?”  
Soris kissed Shianni goodbye and hugged his uncle, “Bye. I’ll be back soon.”  
With a last look they left the house and mounted the horses provided by Eamon’s guards to return to the estate and the war.

Arl of Denerim’s Estate

Eamon was relieved to see they had been successful in the Alienage and that they had made it back to the estate safely. The evidence they had collected along with the existing evidence they had was enough to completely erode Loghain’s claims for Anora and himself. While the queen was still a guest in Eamon’s household, she was still unaware that they were essentially plotting against her. “We can only hope that this won’t all come back and bite us where we can’t see,” he told them. “With this we can officially call the Landsmeet to order. I will see it done in three days. Until that time, I suggest the two of you stay put. We can’t afford to lose you both now.”  
Alistair agreed but his agreement was halfhearted at best. Rosalyn knew he was counting the hours now until he would have to assume the throne and rule. Doing so meant an end to his life as a Warden and his life with her. While Rosalyn had agreed to marry him, he hadn’t pressed her for a date which could only mean he feared it would never come. His refusal to argue with her when she had suggested they wait until after the Landsmeet also proved he was resigning himself to a lifetime of unhappiness without her.  
That night she paced the bedroom thinking of ways to keep him out of his funk and get him to look on it more positively. There was still a bottle of the Antivan red wine he loved and she had sent Wynne out to a grocer for some of his favorite cheeses. The servants had been told not to disturb them for the rest of the evening and the next day and she had donned a new lace nightgown and the pink smallclothes. All she needed was her mark.  
He came in as expected, having suffered through another round of meetings with Eamon and the queen in an attempt to find a way to solve the crisis at hand. Eamon had confided in her that he was trying to convince the two to marry but he didn’t hold out any hope that it would occur, much to both he and Rosalyn’s relief. Still, to cover their dealings, he continued to press them, mentioning it from time to time.  
Alistair sat on the bed and removed his boots and socks, throwing the socks into the basket that Wynne had provided for him in an attempt at changing some of his personal habits. He used it only when he thought about it which was not often. She was standing in front of the window, looking out over the city, toying with his amulet around her neck. It was a common thing for her to do as she waited for him so he suspected nothing was amiss.  
“How was your meeting with the queen?” she asked without turning around.  
“He’s still suggesting we marry. I’d rather marry a toad and if I married her, I’m not sure I wouldn’t be,” he answered disgusted.  
Roslyn giggled at his joke, even though she knew he thought it serious. “Going to bed? I have some of the Antivan wine, if you want it; only a bottle this time. Not enough to get drunk but enough to feel better.”  
“That sounds good. Eamon is on a water kick and had no liquor anywhere. Is that your influence?”  
“I hope not. I think it’s his stomach.”  
Alistair thought a bit and nodded. “Mine too sometimes. It will only get worse from here out.”  
Rosalyn went to the sideboard and poured the wine, picking up a plate and loading it with cheese for him to eat as well. She walked to the bed and handed him the wine. “I had Wynne get you some cheese today. Your favorites.”  
“Wow! This is great, thanks love.” He dove into the plate, savoring each bite with the wine and she smiled to see him so pleased .   
When he had finished she took the plate and returned it to the sideboard and picked up her glass of wine. She returned to the bed and sat down next to him, sipping from her glass. “Alistair? What’s wrong?”  
“Oh nothing. I’m sorry, love.”  
“There is something wrong, I can feel it. I don’t have to use the taint either.”  
“I have two days left.”  
“Until what?”  
Alistair sighed heavily, “Until I have to be king. I don’t want it and I guess I’m miserable. It means the end of everything for me.”  
“Like what?” Rosalyn asked.  
“My freedom, the Wardens, although you never can leave them, can you?” He paused as he noticed what she was wearing, “Us.”  
Rosalyn rose and walked to the sideboard, where she set down her glass. She turned to him, “Why do we have to end? I said I’d marry you. I will even if you are king; if you still want me to.”  
“The Landsmeet would never approve.”  
“Then I’ll be your mistress. You can marry another, but still have me. It’s done all the time.”  
Alistair sputtered in his wine, “You would be my…? Really?” He set the wine down on the bedside table. “What of my wife? Shouldn’t she have a say?”  
“If you wish. It would be entirely up to you. I’m just saying I would do it. I won’t live without you, Alistair, even if it means I have to share you.” She slowly walked to him, untying her robe and letting it drop to the floor. The nightgown she wore was sheer and he could see everything from her breasts to the pink lace smallclothes she’d donned. “You can have your cake and eat it too.”  
Alistair closed his mouth and swallowed. “I think…I could…live with that, if I had to; provided we find the right woman to agree to it.” He rose to meet her, his fingers reaching out to stroke the sheer silk as it glided across her body. His breath caught as she took his hand in hers and kissed his fingers, lingering on each fingertip as she did. “The right woman indeed,” he repeated breathlessly as he took her in his arms and carried her to the bed. 

The Landsmeet

Two days later Alistair woke before dawn to the sound of birds chirping in the garden outside their room. Rosalyn was next to him, nestled in his arms, still fast asleep. He stretched and yawned, trying to disengage himself from her as easily as he could, then rose and headed to the chamber pot in the corner. He turned to see if she’d awakened, only to find she had snuggled back into his place, absorbing as much of his residual warmth as she could.   
He washed his hands, splashing the cold water on his face and drying with the towel that hung on the washstand. The birds had not stopped their chirping so he slowly walked to the window and opened the veranda doors. It was cold that morning but he didn’t seem to notice as he walked, barefoot and naked out onto the veranda and looked down into the garden below. Birds seemed to be everywhere in the garden, feeding and socializing.  
Alistair remembered another day much like this one, on the road somewhere between Orzammar and White Cliffs. He had awoken early and left the tent he shared with Rosalyn to find the forest alive with sound and life. For a moment he was a part of that life and felt that feeling of belonging that is felt when you are part of something wonderful, content and safe. He had never had that in his life and he wanted it to never end. His mind had turned back to the tent and Rosalyn, and he knew where that feeling was to be found. It was with her.  
On this morning, he turned back to the bed where his love lay, sleeping and warm, and he felt the feeling again. Today it was bittersweet, though; for just as he had found what his heart desired, he would soon be forced to give it up for a life of service to his country. A service he should be proud to accept, just as he had proudly accepted the fact that he was Maric’s son, a man he had admired even though he had never known him. Just as he had accepted the fact that he could be a Grey Warden, saving the world from the Darkspawn menace, alongside another man he had admired, Duncan. And just as he had accepted that his destiny was tied to one person, one woman who would show him what love, courage and strength really were, Rosalyn.  
There were only a few hours left now; the Landsmeet was scheduled to start at ten o’clock and the first item of business would be deciding his fate. Never one to pray outside of the times he was forced to do so, Alistair had spent hours in the chapel and in the darkness of his bed, praying to the Maker to change his fate, or give him the strength to endure it. “A miracle,” he prayed, “I need a miracle now, Maker. Help me.” No answer had come and so he continued to pray, as often as he could, even going so far as to journey outside of the estate late one night after Rosalyn had fallen asleep to visit the chantry in the market district. A Templar stood guard as he entered, and nodded to him as he approached the altar with its large statue of Andraste looming over it. He knelt down and repeated the entire Chant of Light; never missing a beat or word, then rose and placed his belt purse upon the table that held the oil and vigil candles, eighty sovereigns, all he had. “Use it for your work,” he had whispered to the statue. “Grant me peace.” He had left and returned to his bed and his love, a better man, but still unfulfilled.  
Alistair never knew what made him suddenly kneel down and pray that morning on the veranda. All he knew was there was the unbearable urge to do so. He folded his hands and bowed his head, fervently asking, “Please, Maker. Give me the strength to do what I must. Help me find my path.” It was then, as he knelt, naked and cold on the veranda overlooking the garden that he knew the answer. A voice reached out, calm and serene, gentle and loving, telling him all would be well. Tears flowed down his face as he realized he had his answer. “Thank you,” he whispered and he returned to his bed and his destiny.

@@@@@

The huge double doors of the Palace loomed heavy over them as they approached. Each step Alistair took was harder and harder, but he continued on. Everything would be all right in the end, he knew.  
Eamon had told them to arrive a half hour late as he wanted them to make a statement as they entered, one that all would see. Rosalyn had selected Leliana and Zevran to accompany them inside the Landsmeet chamber. She had told Alistair that their experience dealing with diplomats and nobles might be an asset that day as they might see things that they might otherwise miss. He had agreed to the point of instructing the rest of their party to wait in the courtyard outside the building in case they might be needed to lend support or their swords.   
Rosalyn had not told Alistair the real reason for bringing Leliana and Zevran; they had worked tirelessly behind the scenes on their behalf in the last months. Eamon wanted their identities known to all so there would be no doubt as to who was really in power in Ferelden. They were taking a huge gamble that the loyalties they had nurtured so hard were legitimate, although Eamon told her they were. When one particular bann from a southern Bannorn holding that bordered Loghain’s lands was shown to have been double dealing them, Eamon had called Zevran and Leliana into his study late one night and they had left, returning to the estate shortly before dawn, their mission accomplished. The next day word reached them that that particular bann had met an untimely end, dying of a supposed heart attack in his bed. His son had inherited the title, a man much more receptive to their overtures.   
Ser Cauthrien was waiting for them in the atrium with a dozen men. “I cannot allow you to enter this hall. If you truly have Ferelden’s best interest at heart, you would have been in there already. Stand down and surrender yourselves. “  
Alistair put his hand to his mouth and whistled a high shrill whistle and the outside doors broke open to reveal Oghren, Morrigan, Sten, and Wynne, armed and ready to come to their aid. “You were saying?”  
“Surely you have superior forces. I will stand down.” Cauthrien dropped her sword as did the men she commanded. “Please, my lord,” she addressed Alistair, “Try to convince him his path is wrong.” He eyes were pleading as she spoke.  
“I will do all I can. Right now, I want you to go outside with the others and wait. If there is any bloodshed, do I have your word that you will not interfere except to keep the fighting inside the chamber? You must keep it from spilling into the streets. Neither side can afford to allow that to happen.”  
“Yes, I will see to that. What of me and my men? We are still loyal to Loghain. If there should be anyone other than Loghain or the queen ruling, what shall we do?”  
Alistair looked down at Rosalyn; who nodded, understanding him perfectly. “Go to Redcliffe and join the army there,” she told her. “If you do, there will be a command in it for you. If not, then run. Do not stay and make yourselves any more of an enemy than you already are.”  
Ser Cauthrien nodded and saluted them, picked up her sword and led her men outside, followed by Morrigan, Sten, Wynne and Oghren. Alistair sighed when they were gone and walked to the doors of the Landsmeet chamber. His hand paused on the door, ready to open it, but he stopped and turned to her. Taking Rosalyn in his arms, he kissed her hard and long, a possessive kiss but passionate; a kiss of goodbye. “Whatever happens, know that I will always love you, Rosalyn Tabris.” He rested his head on her forehead as he spoke, softly and finally.  
“I love you, Alistair, and I always knew,” she replied, kissing him back. “It’s time.”  
He nodded and slowly withdrew, letting her open the door to the rest of his life.

@@@@@

It took all of a minute for Loghain to notice their presence, “Tell us, Wardens: How will the Orlesians take our nation from us? Will they send troops or simply issue their commands through this would-be prince? How much Ferelden blood does Orlesian gold buy?” His tone was superior and haughty towards them.  
Rosalyn was incensed, “We are not the ones who betrayed Ferelden! What of your retreat?”  
Lord Bryland was curious as to her point, “Some of us are curious, Loghain, about precisely what happened at Ostagar.”   
“And one of Cailan’s killers would dare speak of betrayal? You, who led him to die!”  
Alistair stepped forward, “You were the one who fled the battle and left him to die!”  
“And allowed the Darkspawn to march upon this very city!” added Rosalyn.  
“Oh please go on. The Landsmeet longs to hear a proper tactical analysis of the Ostagar battle from an elf,” complained a bored Lord Ceorlic.  
Rosalyn turned to face Ceorlic as he stood on the platform near her, her hand reaching for one of many throwing knives tucked into her belt. Ceorlic backed up a step and his eyes grew large as he beheld her. Only Alistair’s hand on her arm gave her reason to back down.  
Loghain continued on, “Cailan was goaded into making that charge! He believed the tales told of your order; that a handful of men could turn the tide of battle, strategy and consequences be damned!”  
Rosalyn stepped forward to face Loghain down, “So hiring a blood mage to poison Arl Eamon, an apostate mage that you took from the Templar who had apprehended him, then imprisoning that same Templar in the Arl of Denerim’s dungeon means nothing. Just as holding prisoner and torturing those who speak out against you means nothing. Just as selling the Alienage elves to Tevinter slavers to finance your hiring of mercenaries, elven citizens that included my own father! I suppose that means nothing to you either!”  
“The chantry would like to hear of your interference with our sovereign rights to apprehend escaped and dangerous mages, and of your treatment of those we send to do this duty,” demanded the Grand Cleric.  
“And I would hear more of these tales of slavery in the Alienage,” asked another irate lord.  
Loghain stared at the Wardens, “And I would very much like to know what you have done with my daughter, our queen, whom you took by force, killing her guards in the process. Does she even still live?”  
“I can speak for myself on that matter, my lords,” declared Anora as she entered the chamber from the side door. “My father is no longer the man he was and I would have been killed if not for these Grey Wardens.”  
Loghain shook his head at his only child, “They have even poisoned my daughter against me.”  
With that statement, Lord Ceorlic called for a vote of confidence. A roll call of the banns had most going along with Loghain, not enough to help their cause. With his confidence returned, Loghain ordered the guards to escort the queen out of the chamber and to take the Wardens and Eamon into custody for treason and haul them to the prison. When they moved to take them, Eamon called out to all who would hear him, “To arms! We will not be taken without a fight!”  
A twenty minute battle ensued with Loghain’s men as the castle guards, who were still loyal to the queen, joined their side and began to fight. Just as it seemed the battle would spill into the street, the Grand Cleric pounded her ceremonial staff on the floor loud enough to reverberate through the entire room. “In the Maker’s name, stop! There will be order!” Charged with keeping the peace in the chamber, Templars streamed into the hall and surrounded the Wardens, Eamon and Loghain, holding them all at sword point.   
“Alistair’s claim to the throne is challenged. In the old days, such claims were settled by duels. Will the Landsmeet agree to this?”  
Bann Alfstanna looked at the lords nearest her and they nodded, “Yes, if it will avoid further bloodshed. But it will be fought by strength of arms, in single combat, until one party yields. Are the terms accepted?”  
Rosalyn looked up at Alistair and reached out to sense what he felt. There was fear, anxiety and a lot of anger but a glimmer of hope. “Do what you think is best, love. I trust you.”  
She smiled at him and turned to face the Grand Cleric, “Alistair accepts and I will be his champion.”  
Loghain looked at Alistair in a new light. There was much of Maric in him and he smiled at the irony that his best friend’s son would be the one to determine his fate. His eyes darted to the diminutive elven rogue that stood before him, ready to kill him with a look, if she could. Yes, irony indeed. “So let us fight for it. Prepare yourself!” He turned on his heel and stalked to his men at the end of the room and began to check his armor and weapons.

@@@@@

Rosalyn stood still for a moment and watched him walk away, wishing she could take him then as she had a clear shot. “I know what you’re thinking, love. You can’t do it and you know it.” Alistair leaned in to her, “But I’d give anything to see you do it.” He turned her around and began to check her armor while Leliana took her bow to hold for her. Zevran checked her weapons, Duncan’s sword and her mother’s dagger, making sure they were sharp and ready.   
As he checked her armor, she discovered Alistair was muttering something under his breath. “What is that you’re saying?”  
“Oh.” He paused, searching for the right words. “The Chant of Light. I…well, I thought it might help as it’s been pretty helpful to me lately.”  
She didn’t ask what he meant but looked up into his eyes and saw he was at peace. “I suppose that would explain some of your long absences these last few days.” He looked a bit chastised but nodded. “Relax, Alistair. I do need all the help I can get.” She sheathed her weapons as Zevran handed them to her. “I seem to remember this scenario playing out before, and I distinctly remember asking you to remind me not to duel anymore.”  
“Oh, by the way, don’t duel.” His eyes twinkled at her as she smiled but he clearly feared for her.  
“Next time.” She looked over at Zevran who nodded his approval, smiling broadly and Leliana who put her hand on Rosalyn’s shoulder and squeezed. She turned to Alistair once more, “I love you,” she said.  
“I love you and intend to show you how much as soon as I can. Now go kick his ass.” She laughed a little and he bent and kissed her cheek, lingering to brush his lips against the edge of her ear as his straightened back up. She shivered with the promise the kiss and his touch held and let the feeling wash over her, calming her nerves and steadying her. Alistair reached out with his senses and she let him feel what she felt, knowing he would be satisfied.   
With one last look at her love, she walked out into the large circle that had been created by the Templar guards to keep any other parties from interfering with the combat. As she strode out, she met Loghain’s eyes and never flinched, keeping her gaze steady and strong as she approached him, listening to the whispers and cries of, “Maker keep you Warden,” and “Good luck, Warden,” from those who backed her, ignoring the curses and ill wishes from those who didn’t. For the whole walk to the combat area, she could feel Alistair’s strength as he willed it to enforce and strengthen her own.   
The Grand Cleric was in the circle waiting for her and nodded her approval. “Are you ready?” she asked her kindly.   
“I am ready, your grace,” was her confident reply.  
To Loghain, she addressed the same question, “Are you ready?”  
“Yes, your grace,” said Loghain tersely.  
The Grand Cleric raised her voice so all could hear. “This combat will be until one participant yields.” She turned and addressed Loghain’s troops who had gathered near an exit, supposedly to protect the queen, who stood nearby. “Any interference by other parties will be dealt with severely!” she warned. The Templars closest to her drew their weapons part way out of their scabbards to illustrate her words and there was a hush as the sing of the swords was heard. She turned back to Loghain and Rosalyn, “If either of you wish to yield now, there will be no shame.” When neither spoke, she nodded, “Maker watch over you both and may his justice be served.” She withdrew to stand at the foot of the dais on which the throne stood empty, awaiting its future occupant. She raised her hand and silence came over the crowd; with the dropping of that hand she cried out, “Begin!”  
Rosalyn circled the Teyrn, assessing his weaknesses and strength. He was a strong man and even in late middle age, he was no less so. She could see what the years of training with a sword had wrought; he was a pure warrior who knew more about killing than she would ever see. He was a warrior and she was a rogue, trained in subterfuge and stealth, and she would need all those skills today.  
Loghain made the first move, knocking her back with a powerful sword thrust. She danced to the side and came in from the rear, stabbing at him with her dagger and knocking him off balance but not to the ground. He swung his sword in an arch, forcing her to drop to the ground. There were gasps from the crowd as she fell, and Rosalyn thought she recognized one of them as Alistair’s. As Loghain’s sword swung around for another blow, Rosalyn lashed out with her foot, hooking it on the back of his ankle and staggering him as he fought for balance in his heavy armor. She smiled at his efforts.  
Rising to her feet, she struck out at him, aiming for his right arm, trying to disable his dominant side. The Teyrn simply switched hands and laughed at her efforts. “Nice try, Warden but I haven’t fought all these years for nothing.”  
“You can’t blame a girl for trying though,” she quipped as she circled him again, looking for a weakness or an angle to exploit.   
Loghain watched her as she circled, knowing she would try anything to win. He struck out with his sword again, swinging wide in the hopes of catching her off balance enough to stumble. Rosalyn saw the move and reacted, dropping down under the swing and stabbing up towards Loghain’s lower body. In his haste to retreat from her blow he missed seeing her dagger stroke as it came down on his right arm and his sword dropped to the ground, his hand gone numb from the blow. Rosalyn’s dagger was pointed at his neck before he could react, her sword positioned right above his groin for emphasis.  
“Yield, my lord, or starting singing soprano,” she commanded.   
The Teyrn of Gwaren nodded his head and put up his hands, “There is great strength within you that I have not seen since Maric died.” He turned to look at Alistair and Eamon, standing side by side, “Perhaps it is your associations, or perhaps it is you. No matter then, I yield to the Warden and submit myself to the judgment of this Landsmeet.”  
Rosalyn looked down at her foe, and put out her hand to help him up. “I wish it could be different, my lord. We could so use your leadership right now, but they will call for your death. You know this.”  
“I know. Thank you for your concern, child. I have prepared.” He turned to face the Landsmeet proper, “Eamon, as the leader of this assembly I ask that you appoint a judge to see me swiftly dealt with. It is time.”  
Eamon turned to his supporters standing with him and they talked amongst themselves for a few minutes before turning back to the Teyrn. “We find you guilty, Loghain and sentence you to death. Do you have a statement?”  
“Merely that I wish it be known that I only wanted to better my country. My methods are what damn me. Maker bless Ferelden and the one who rules her.” With that he turned and embraced his daughter for the last time. “Be strong, girl and know that you have my heart.” Anora nodded, too overcome with emotion to answer.   
Loghain knelt in front of the assembled lords in the ceremonial position of a condemned man and awaited his end. Rosalyn pulled Duncan’s sword from her scabbard and handed it to Alistair. “For Duncan and Cailan,” she said as he took the sword.   
Alistair walked to the Teyrn, stopping in front of him and looking down at the man he once admired and now reviled. “Maker take you, my lord,” he said as he raised the sword high above his head, bringing it down against Loghain’s neck and severing his head. The body dropped to the floor and the blood rushed out as he died. Alistair stepped back and sheathed the sword in Rosalyn’s scabbard, then took his place next to Eamon.

@@@@@

Eamon called the guards to come forward and take Loghain’s body to be prepared for funeral rites. “He will be given a hero’s funeral as befits one of the saviors of Ferelden.” His head bowed as did all others as the body passed. It was only then that Eamon began anew, “We still have the matter of deciding who will lead Ferelden.” He turned to Rosalyn as she stood next to Alistair, “Warden Rosalyn, will you mediate this matter for us? Tell us, who should be ruler?”  
Alistair looked down at her, his eyes pleading but his manner one of acceptance, he nodded his approval and she walked to the dais and stood next to the Grand Cleric. The elderly lady smiled a warm smile at her as she took her place and the Templar guards bowed their heads in deference to her. When the Grand Cleric nodded her agreement, Rosalyn spoke, “It is my choice that Arl Eamon Guerrin of Redcliffe rule Ferelden by right of blood ties to our former king. His service to his country merits my choice.”  
There was a stunned silence as the lords of the Landsmeet contemplated her announcement. Rosalyn looked at Alistair, who stood with his mouth open, staring at her as if she had three heads. She cocked her head a little and he closed his mouth and his eyes grew wide as he realized what she had done. She had put the one man on the throne who was most capable of saving Ferelden. Alistair turned and knelt before his uncle, “I hereby swear allegiance to you, King Eamon, as does my house and family.” He drew his sword and kissed the haft and sheathed it, rising to embrace his new monarch.  
Rosalyn came to kneel down in front of Eamon saying, “You have my sword and my allegiance, your majesty. Maker save you!” She drew her sword and kissed the haft, then sheathed it and rose.   
Eamon took her hands in his and kissed them both. “Thank you,” he said quietly, his voice full of emotion. “Thank you both!” She smiled as he hugged her tightly. The Grand Cleric came forward and greeted the new monarch, pledging help from her Templar army to defeat the Blight and blessing his rule. She winked at Rosalyn as she departed, smiling widely at her.  
Anora was furious as she saw what the Wardens had wrought, but a motion from Eamon’s hand stayed her words and she was summarily ushered out of the chamber to her new quarters in the tower. Rosalyn and Eamon had both seen that she would be comfortable and treated well as was her right as the dowager queen. They had both been very careful to see that she had no contact with anyone of her household or her father’s to insure no insurrection would result from her confinement. She was still a very dangerous commodity.   
One by one the banns came forward to swear their allegiance and promise their troops and help in the war. Alistair stood still by his uncle, on his right side, speechless with emotion and not a small bit of confusion. Rosalyn reached over and took his hand as he stood next to his king. And when he looked down, it suddenly occurred to him that that little voice he had heard that morning on the veranda was right. Everything was going to be all right.  
Later in the day, Rosalyn stood in the dining room of Eamon’s estate, surrounded by her companions, who congratulated her and gushed over her. She smiled and took the offered praise, thanking them graciously. When the door to the room opened with a slam, she jumped and turned around to see Alistair standing there, a look she had never seen on his face. She turned to her friends and nodded, and they quickly left the room, leaving the two of them alone.  
“I’m not the king,” he said bluntly. “You didn’t make me king.”  
“No, I didn’t,” she replied.  
“Why?”  
Rosalyn thought a moment then gave her answer, “Eamon loves the people of Ferelden and the country. He will work tirelessly to insure they are well cared for and prepared to fight the Blight when they must.”  
“And what of the succession? Connor can’t be king: he’s a mage.”  
“Teagan will be Eamon’s heir if he and Isolde do not have any more children. Considering how well they are getting along, I would say that it is a strong possibility that he will inherit. Teagan has agreed to marry as soon as he can and produce as many heirs as are needed. I think he will too.”  
“No doubt, he will. It’s surprising he hasn’t yet,” Alistair said, almost disgusted.  
Rosalyn smiled, thinking of the things that Teagan had said to her in Redcliffe, “It is surprising.” She walked to the window that overlooked the courtyard, “The line of succession would have most likely ended with you, you know.”  
“I know and we would be right back where we started.”  
“Exactly. Plus there is the factor that you have no political or diplomatic training to speak of. You just aren’t suited to be king, Alistair.”  
“And that’s what I kept trying to tell you all this time. I thought no one was listening.”  
She smiled at his admission, “As I told you before, I always listen to what you say.”  
“So you did. I just never thought it would matter so.” He walked to the side table and poured himself a drink, downing it quickly. He turned to her as she looked out the window. He knew she was holding something back, he could feel it and he didn’t need the taint. “What else?”   
Rosalyn turned and looked at him with all the love she had for him shining in her eyes, “Because, for once in your life I wanted you to get something you wanted and be happy!”  
Alistair had expected many answers to his question but that was the one he didn’t. “You…wanted me to be happy?”  
“Yes. Don’t you think it’s time?”  
He crossed the floor to her so quickly she had no time to react. Taking her in his arms, he held her tightly, burying his face in her hair. “Maker I love you! No one has ever given me a greater gift and I’ll spend the rest of my life repaying you. I swear!”   
Rosalyn pulled back and held his face in her hands, his eyes shining with unshed tears of happiness just as hers were. “I love you too and I look forward to it,” she replied and held him tight.

@@@@@

Later that night, they sat at table in the Arl’s estate next to the new king as he regaled them with his plans for the future of Ferelden. Teagan had joined them that afternoon, having ridden all night to get there. He was flushed with wine and good humor as he sat next to his brother. Alistair sat opposite at the table with Rosalyn at his side.   
Eamon looked to Rosalyn and asked, “Tell me, my dear, how would you like to be a princess of Ferelden?”  
Rosalyn was speechless at his question, “Princess? I…I don’t know what to say, your lord…your majesty. How would that be possible as I am an elf?”  
“If you marry Alistair, you would be entitled to the title.” He looked over at his nephew, “I assume you do intend to make an honest woman of her?”  
Alistair smiled, “I have tried, your majesty. But it seems that even though you take the girl out of the Alienage, you can’t take the Alienage out of the girl.” Everyone laughed at his jest, even Rosalyn, who kissed his cheek in thanks.  
“Well then, when you do, let me know and the title is yours. As king, I have officially acknowledged you as Maric’s son and a prince of Ferelden, making up for his and Cailan’s lacks. Since you have abdicated in my favor, the title is mine to give.”  
“Thank you, your majesty. I appreciate your generosity and kindness,” Alistair replied.  
Eamon shook his head, “It is no more than you deserve, son. I wish that I could do more.” He looked at the rest of their company. “There is, however, more sobering news to report. The horde has begun to march and is headed in the direction of Redcliffe. We must leave at first light to join the army there. The Grand Cleric will be sending a contingent of Templars to assist us in combatting any Darkspawn magic and the Legion of the Dead is camped not far from here and will also accompany us. Their leader, Kardol, is an impressive man.”  
“He is that, sire,” agreed Rosalyn.  
With that announcement I have some others. Besides becoming an official Prince of Ferelden, I would also ask Alistair if he would consent to being general of my army. Loghain’s shoes are tough to fill but I think you can do it.”  
“I would be honored, sire,” Alistair replied humbly.  
“And Rosalyn, would you consent to becoming Commander of the Grey in the absence of Duncan? As the reigning monarch it is my responsibility to name one. I can think of no other who can do the job.”  
Rosalyn was speechless for a moment as she thought about what he asked her. “It would be my honor, sire.”  
“Excellent! Let us retire, then. We have a long journey on the morrow.” Eamon stood and everyone stood and bowed as he left. “Good night!”  
Rosalyn and Alistair headed to their own room and as Alistair pulled the latch on the door, Rosalyn poured them the last of the Antivan red wine. He turned and accepted the wine, taking a sip as he watched her. “All right, the truth, now. How long had you been planning all that today?”  
Rosalyn stopped dead for a moment and cocked her head at him. “Planning what?” she answered coyly.  
“You know what I mean. Eamon as king, Teagan as heir, and Anora out the window. How long?”  
She winced, “Since we got back from White Cliffs. I pitched the idea to Teagan and together we approached Eamon. Later I brought Zevran and Leliana in for their particular skills. I…I couldn’t tell you.”  
“Why not? You preferred to let me think I would be king?”  
“I wanted to tell you, but Eamon and Teagan agreed it was best to let you think you would be king. It lent more credibility to the ruse. It had nothing to do with your inability to keep secrets or your trustworthiness and everything to do with maintaining a cover. That’s why I told Anora I was supporting her. We told the both of you what you wanted to hear and you believed it so much that you actually worked towards those goals. It was perfect.”  
He put his wine down on the sideboard and took hers from her and set it down. “So then, I think that perhaps you will have to pay the price for your little subterfuge, my love.” He began to advance on her slowly, a determined look on his face and she backed up, trying to get away.  
“Uhhhh…Alistair? You don’t have to…” she exclaimed as she darted from his grasp.  
“Oh, I think I do, love. Badly.” He lunged at her as she darted to the side, but while he wasn’t as fast as she was, he knew enough of her ways to anticipate the move. He had her by the arm and pulled her to him as she squealed, picking her up and throwing her over his shoulder as he strode to the bed. He dropped her to her feet and sat on the bed and pulled her over his lap, hitching up her dress as he did.  
“Alistair! No! You wouldn’t!” she screamed.  
“Oh wouldn’t I, love. Time for your punishment.” His hand came down on her behind with a crack and she flinched and gasped. “Oh, so that’s how it is,” he said, “Perhaps you need more.” His hand came down on her behind again with another crack and she yelled.  
“Alistair! This isn’t funny!”  
“I beg to differ, my love. I find it exceedingly funny. I should have done this months ago.” He looked down and noticed she was wearing the pink smallclothes and suddenly funny changed to something more intense. He lifted her up to stand before him and stood to take her in his arms and kiss her for all he was worth. “Lyn, I…” he panted.  
‘Yes!” she cried and took him down with her to the bed. They drank at each other’s lips and their hands were everywhere. “As long as I get to spank you later,” she proposed, nibbling on his ear.  
“Done,” he said as he unlaced her gown.

The Road to Redcliffe

The next morning, Alistair and Rosalyn packed their things and headed to the dining room for a quick breakfast, then out to the courtyard to meet their friends. Teagan surprised her by bringing Felas with him for her to ride. “Felas!” she cried when she saw her. “You look good. Ready for a ride?” Felas snorted her welcome and nodded her head for emphasis. Rosalyn leaned in and whispered, “Nice and soft, if you don’t mind.” She rubbed her bottom and smiled, thinking of the night before.  
Alistair mounted a large grey stallion that Eamon had loaned him, wincing as he seated himself. “What was I thinking last night?” he muttered, looking over to see what Rosalyn’s reaction was. She smiled, remembering her part in his discomfort and he smiled back. “And I’d do it all again,” he added.  
A messenger had arrived during the night with a message from Ser Perth at the castle. The horde was only two days out of Redcliffe so they would have to hurry. “Let’s go!” ordered Eamon and they were off.  
Rosalyn had a quick errand to run in the market district before they left. Riordan had given her a code that could be used to unlock the Grey Warden vault that was located in a warehouse near the Wonders of Thedas. “Alistair, come with me, we won’t be but a few minutes.”  
“All right, love.” To Teagan, he said. “Go on. We’ll catch up.”  
He followed her down the street to the warehouse that Riordan had shown her. Along the back wall they found a doorway that led into a small room. Rosalyn had Alistair help her move a large bookcase to the side, revealing a set-in door. “How did you know this was here?”  
“Riordan told me about it before he left. It’s the Grey Warden vault. I thought there might be something we might want to use here.” She entered the code into the lock and it snapped open. It took both of them to push the heavy door open but when they did, they revealed a dusty room, full of books, files and armor, some of it very old.   
“Maker! Look at all this!” He pulled a book from the shelf and found it to be a journal of Grey Warden history from three hundred years before. “This is amazing! Can I take some to read?”  
Rosalyn laughed at his enthusiasm. “You may take a couple with you, but remember that they are one of a kind.” She smiled and laughed again as he pulled out his rucksack and started to fill it up with books. When he started to pull his clothes out of the pack to make room for more, she stopped him. “Enough! How will you have time to read all that?”  
“Oh I’ll find a way,” he said, trying to stuff his clothes back into the sack.   
“Give me those,” she said, taking the clothing and stuffing it in her own sack. “At least I can guarantee they will be washed.”  
Alistair continued to peruse the stacks of documents and books while she looked for her target. She found it hanging on an armor rack, neatly polished and in great condition, just as Riordan had told her. “Alistair? Come here and see this.” He walked over to her as she pulled the shield off the rack and handed it to him. “This is for you.”  
He took the shield and examined it. It was of fine make, strong and heavy, with runes along the edge for decoration. But it was when he examined the back that he gasped as he saw who the shield had belonged to. “This…it’s Duncan’s!”  
“Riordan was here the other day before he left and found it. He thought you might want to have it as he doesn’t use a shield anymore. It’s yours if you want it.”  
“I can’t believe it. Yes, yes I’ll take it!” He took his battered Grey Warden shield that he had had as long as she’d known him and hung it on the rack. Rosalyn helped him adjust the straps to fit him, and then sparred a little with him to test it. “It’s perfect! Thank you!” He pulled her into his arms and hugged her.  
“I’m so glad you like it. We should go then, they’ll be wondering where we’ve gotten to,” she said as she headed for the door.  
“As you wish, commander,” he teased.  
“I’ll remember that, my prince,” she answered, laughing.

Redcliffe Castle

The arrived at Redcliffe in the middle of the day and were greeted by cheers from the army as they rode pass the main encampment. Messengers had been sent out to all the corners of the kingdom and to the rulers of the nations of Thedas to announce the death of King Cailan and the ascension of King Eamon.  
Carefully worded, these messages also spoke of the need for help to fight the Blight. Eamon had begun to write the missives days before the Landsmeet convened in hopes they would be able to be delivered as soon as a ruler was chosen. Messengers were standing by at the ports and borders, ready to take off as soon as a ruler was announced and alternate messages had been drafted if Anora or Alistair was chosen to rule. “Even if we fail in our attempt to stop the Blight here, at least the rest of Thedas will know the truth,” Eamon had said. Messages to the nearest known Grey Warden bases were also dispatched and Zevran and Leliana made sure they would be delivered thanks to their influences with the bardic order and the underworld.  
The party found the castle buzzing with life and work as preparations were made to welcome their arl and new king home. Teagan had done wonders and the entire settlement of Redcliffe was prosperous with new life as refugees were moving in and settling down to bolster the depleted numbers of the merchants, craftsmen and laborers that Redcliffe so desperately needed.   
Rosalyn was beside herself when Teagan told her that he had banned the building of an Alienage and declared that the elven peoples of Redcliffe were free to live wherever they wished, without prejudice. This did not mean they could not form a community group where elves could share their culture with themselves and others, he had told her. He had personally led an expedition to the nearby forest to select a new Vhenadahl tree, and oversaw it’s planting on the hill overlooking the village. The former tree had succumbed to a form of blight sickness and had been removed and destroyed for the safety of the people and crops that surrounded the village. Rosalyn threw herself into Teagan’s arms and hugged him, thanking him profusely to the point of embarrassment. Alistair laughed at Teagan’s discomfort and removed his love from around his uncle’s neck, but Teagan smiled and said he had done it all for her. “In the future, I intend to see all the Alienages gone from our land. The elven people have suffered long enough in Ferelden.”  
That night, the Eamon hosted a banquet, honoring the Grey Wardens, their companions, Teagan and many others who had worked so hard to heal him and save his family and lands. “I owe you all debts that I can never repay,” he said with tears in his eyes. “But I will try.”  
Alistair and Rosalyn were granted seats at the head table in deference to their positions as Prince of Ferelden, General of the Army and Commander of the Grey. Teagan, First Enchanter Irving, Keeper Lanaya and Kardol of the Legion of the Dead were also given seats of honor. Rosalyn leaned into Alistair and whispered, “Where’s Lady Isolde?”  
Alistair rolled his eyes a little, “Eamon is still angry with her because of her role in everything. She is here but she is seated on the floor with everyone else. He says he won’t make her his queen.”  
“He intends to divorce her?”  
“No, I don’t think so. He does still love her. Teagan suggested that he let her keep her title of Arlessa of Redcliffe but make her the Royal Consort and not queen. I think that’s what Eamon plans. He’s still pretty steamed at her and it’s not likely to go away in the near future.”  
“I would think not; so many died.” She shuddered as she remembered that night so long ago. Alistair took her hand and squeezed it.  
A group of musicians began to play as the floor tables were cleared for dancing. “Shall we, my lady?” Alistair asked.  
“Uhhhh…I don’t know how,” she answered. “I always practiced my sword footwork when everyone else was learning to dance. You go ahead. Ask Wynne or Leliana.”  
“You’re sure?”  
“Yes. This is one swimming lesson I’ll have to pass on,” she replied, laughing. He bent down and kissed her then headed to Leliana and took her hand, leading her out to the dance floor for a turn.   
First Enchanter Irving leaned over to her, “You don’t dance, child?”  
“Oh no, ser. It was my way to rebel as a child. I hated having to do anything I was told I had to do, and dancing fell under that heading too.”  
Irving laughed, “I was much the same as a boy. Always in trouble.” He looked out and watched Alistair as he danced with Leliana. “Your fellow Warden is a fine man, though. You are most fortunate, child, to know him.”  
Rosalyn smiled a knowing smile as Alistair glanced up at her, his eyebrows raised and a look of wanting on his face. She nodded at him and turned to the First Enchanter, “Most fortunate, indeed, ser. Please excuse me and good night.”  
“Good night, my dear. Pleasant dreams,” he said as he watched her walk to the door to leave the hall, Alistair following her.

@@@@@

Alistair and Rosalyn took Zevran and Leliana and rode out to visit the army the next morning. Everything was in order and on schedule as it was estimated the horde was three days out. While they might not be able to kill the Archdemon if it showed due to the lack of Grey Wardens in attendance, it was definitely possible to defeat the Darkspawn army or at the least, cripple it severely so they could buy time for more Wardens to arrive. Leliana asked if they could visit the town for a bit so she could go to the chantry and check for any messages from her former colleagues at the chantry in Lothering.   
“Why not, we could see what’s been done since we were last there,” Alistair agreed and led the way around the castle and through the fields on the three mile journey to the town from their current location.  
About a mile from the village, he suddenly stopped his horse and listened. “Lyn?” he asked warily.  
“I feel it,” she replied, pulling on Felas’ reigns.   
“Damn! Darkspawn!” exclaimed Alistair as he dismounted. “Let them go, they’ll be all right,” he told them, indicating the horses. He smacked his stallion on the rear and yelled, “Hah!” The horse took off in the direction of the army camp at top speed. Leliana and Zevran followed suit with their mounts.  
Rosalyn dismounted and held Felas by the reigns, pulling her down to look her in the eye, “Go home, love. Tell them what’s happened.” Felas snorted and nodded her head and Rosalyn patted her on the neck and let her go, watching her run after the others to the army camp.  
“She really understands you, doesn’t she?” asked Alistair as he drew his sword and readied his shield.  
Rosalyn pulled her bow and nocked an arrow, “This time, I hope she does.”  
The four of them worked their way through the fields coming into the town from the top of the hill near the new Vhenadahl tree. The entire area was deserted except for a young man who came out of hiding near the main village gate. “Are you here to help us?”  
“When did the Darkspawn get here, Sam?” asked Alistair.  
“A couple of hours ago, they came in force and entered from the other side of the village. Most of the people got out by fleeing through the Mill passage to the castle or by boat to the lake. I stayed in hopes I could get to the army and warn you.”  
“Head to the encampment and tell them we need assistance. We will head into the village and scout the situation. If you head back across the fields the way we came, you should be safe.” Alistair looked up the hill and saw Felas coming towards them, “There’s a horse there you can take. She’s fast and sure.” He caught Felas’ reigns and boosted the boy up. “Go!” he yelled and smacked the horse on the rump as she took off.  
“And here I thought I was getting through to her,” a disappointed Rosalyn told him.  
“She’s just devoted to you, is all. I know the feeling,” he replied, bending down to give her a quick kiss. “Let’s go.”  
They headed down the hill and found themselves engaged by Darkspawn grunts immediately. Rosalyn and Leliana took most of them out from a distance with arrows, allowing Zevran and Alistair to get the ones that came close. Slowly they made their way down the hill to the village square, finding it swarming with grunts, three ogres and a sorcerer. Alistair cut his way down the hill, towards the sorcerer, draining it’s mana as often as he could. Rosalyn and Leliana picked off the grunts, then concentrated their fire on the ogres, while Zevran attacked the huge beasts from behind. After a twenty minute battle, they stood victorious.   
Rosalyn looked up at the castle and noticed a red flag flying from the ramparts. “Alistair, what flag is that?”  
He looked up, “Crap! It’s a warning. They’re under attack!”  
“Let’s get up there!” she told him and they ran to the castle as fast as they could.

@@@@@

As the made it to the castle they discovered the bailey had been overrun with Darkspawn, including an arcane horror. The Redcliffe guards were outnumbered and none of them was equipped to fight the horror so Alistair and Zevran rushed to engage it, using Templar talents and stealth techniques. Rosalyn and Leliana took out as many of the grunts as they could to lessen the burden on the Redcliffe guards. As the horror hit the ground they turned the tide in their favor and were able to reach the steps of the castle. Rosalyn instructed the bowmen to concentrate their fire on the outside ranks to drive them together, thus making it easier for the warriors to take them out. With the defense plan in place, they entered the castle.  
Eamon and Teagan were holed up in the main hall with the other leaders of the allies, planning their next move. Alistair was pleased to see Riordan had arrived. “Riordan! I see you didn’t bring good news with you this time.”  
“Indeed I didn’t, Alistair. It is good to see you well, though.” He looked down at Rosalyn, “And you too, Commander.”   
Rosalyn smiled, “What is the situation?”  
“The Darkspawn that attacked Redcliffe were fewer in number than we thought which means the horde is not marching in this direction and is instead heading towards Denerim. They are about two days from the capital,” Riordan reported.   
Alistair looked down at Rosalyn then back at Riordan, “Are you sure? If that’s true…”  
“I am certain. The Darkspawn appeared to be headed in this direction due to the fact that the horde is wide and many roam away from it.”  
“And it doesn’t help that we’ve been too busy killing each other to pay close attention.”  
Riordan turned and paced to the fire, warming his hands as he formed the next words, “There is another piece of information that is more important. The Archdemon has shown itself. It is at the head of the horde.”  
“Maker preserve us!” exclaimed Teagan.  
“Denerim is too far to reach in two days. It will take a forced march,” added Alistair.  
Eamon agreed, “Denerim must be defended. Have the army set out at daybreak, with all haste.” He turned to Alistair and Rosalyn, “Get some rest; I’ll have someone notify you when we are ready.”   
Riordan stopped them before they left, “I have something important to discuss with you before you retire. Meet me in my room at the end of the upstairs hall.” Alistair nodded and bidding his uncles goodnight, took Rosalyn’s hand as they went upstairs.  
The senior Warden was warming his hands by the fire in his room. He turned to them and smiled, walking to the door and throwing the bolt after them. He began slowly, “You are new to the Wardens and you may not have been told how an Archdemon is slain. I need to know if that is so.”  
Alistair and Rosalyn looked at each other in confusion then Alistair spoke, “So there’s more to it than just chopping off its head?”  
Riordan shook his head at his predicament, “I had hoped that Duncan….it matters not now. Have you ever wondered why only a Grey Warden can kill the Archdemon?”  
“I had wondered that,” answered a bewildered Rosalyn.  
“While the Archdemon may be slain as any Darkspawn, if any other than a Grey Warden should do it, it will not be enough. A Darkspawn is an empty soulless vessel and the Warden is not. When the Archdemon is destroyed, its essence travels along the taint to the next creature and is reborn. But if the nearest creature is a Grey Warden then the essence is destroyed, along with the Grey Warden. It is the only way.”  
“So the Grey Warden that kills the Archdemon…dies?” whispered a stunned Alistair.  
“Then I will take the blow myself,” announced a determined Rosalyn.  
Riordan smiled at her courage and strength, she was everything she had been told she would be. “As the eldest, the deed falls upon me. I will not be spared the taint much longer. But if the deed should fall on either of you, remember that the Blight must be stopped or all of Ferelden and Thedas will fall.” He put his hands on their shoulders, “But enough of this. There will be time on the morrow. Both of you should get some rest as we have a long journey ahead of us.”  
Alistair bid Riordan a quick good night and turned to leave. Rosalyn spoke a few words to him but when she looked up, Alistair was gone.

@@@@@

Alistair’s mind was racing as he walked aimlessly down the hall. “She says she will take the final blow…” he thought furiously, over and over. When he realized where he was, he saw a door and opened it, taking the stairs to the tower.  
The air was crisp with a threat of rain as Alistair leaned over the wall and gasped, drinking in as much cool air as possible. His head pounded and his heart raced as the thought came again, “She says she will take the final blow…”  
He began to pace the ramparts, anger taking the place of fear. “She says she will take the final blow…,” he said out loud. His hands became fists and he felt the cold rain as it began to fall, quickly soaking his shirt and breeks.   
“She says she will take the final blow…,” he said again. “NO! I won’t let you!” he screamed as his fist hit the stone wall as hard as it could. His anger dulled the pain he should have felt and in the back of his mind he knew he would have to see Wynne and make some excuse as for why he’d hurt it. But the only thing on his mind right now was Rosalyn and her declaration to them in Riordan’s room.   
He sank to his knees in the rain and sobbed, over and over, “She says she will take the final blow…” He was finished without her; he had no reason to live, no one to live for or with.   
“It does not have to be so…” he heard a soft voice saying.  
Gathering his wits, he looked up and saw Morrigan, leaning back against the wall, her arms crossed, hiding in the darkness. He stood up and wiped at his face, “What do you mean it does not have to be so?” he asked warily.  
“I know how the Archdemon must be killed. The Grey Warden that slays it takes the essence within them and they and the Archdemon are destroyed.”  
“How did you know that?” he asked, amazed.  
“Flemeth, among other things. The point is that it does not have to be so.” She stepped out of the shadows and threw the hood of her cloak up over her head. “There is a way out.”  
“And what is this….way?” Alistair asked, skeptically.  
Morrigan walked closer to him and he swore he heard her chanting under her breath, but dismissed it as the wind. “A good way…a very pleasurable way,” she told him, her voice sweet and thick like honey. Her hand reached out and began to stroke his arm. “Very pleasurable.”  
Alistair’s head suddenly became muddled and he couldn’t focus or remember what he was doing. There was only Morrigan’s voice, soothing and sweet, and her hand, stroking and calming. “I…I was…” he stammered, trying to form his thoughts. Visions of pale skin and raven hair assaulted his mind, hands running over him, caressing, kissing and touching. “I…”  
“Yes, my dear, sweet Warden. It is delicious, is it not? The feeling? You want it, I know. I can give it to you,” she crooned, her lips next to his ear. He grabbed her and crushed her lips to his in a punishing and brutal kiss, causing her to laugh with joy. “Take me,” she whispered. “Take me now.”  
Alistair kissed her again, hard and possessive, his hands running over Morrigan’s body as she whispered things to him. He looked down at her and began to bite her neck and kiss her, causing her to moan. Each time he bit, it was harder and she moaned louder. He looked down and saw blood had begun to run from one of the bites, he had bitten her so hard. It flowed down her skin, a slight trickle, slow, thick and…  
“Red,” he said aloud. Red like a rose; like Rosalyn’s hair. Rosalyn. His love. He closed his eyes, feeling Morrigan’s lips on his neck as she nibbled and kissed him, building the passion. “Rosalyn,” he said aloud. “NO!” He called his power and cast out at Morrigan, dispelling the spell she had cast on him and draining her mana. She collapsed to the ground, panting with want and exhaustion. When she looked up, she saw the dagger pointed at her throat, a hair’s breadth from cutting her.  
“What is this you do?” he demanded, reaching down to yank her up to her feet. He felt the slight change of energy within her as she began to call on her power and he pressed the dagger in just a bit. “Try it and die,” he warned.   
“Alistair, hear me out, please. I can help you. Lie with me and I will conduct a ritual that will insure that neither you nor she will have to die tomorrow. Both of you will live but you must do as I ask.”  
“So you use blood magic to convince me? It doesn’t help your case.”  
She closed her eyes, “It was the only avenue I had. You would not have come to me any other way.”  
“And I won’t come to you now. Leave this place. If you are here tomorrow, I will kill you on sight,” he told her.   
“But…’ She started to argue but thought the better, stepping back from him and turning for the door, before she looked back at him, standing with the dagger at the ready. “Very well. I curse you, Alistair Theirin. Your lovers will find you wanting; your food will taste of ashes, your wine of vinegar, your life unfulfilled. This I swear.” She transformed into a wolf and ran out the door, evading the dagger as it hit the door, imbedding itself in the wood.

@@@@@

Rosalyn stood in her room, staring at the roaring fire, but feeling so very cold. Alistair had disappeared after their meeting with Riordan and when she couldn’t find him, she had returned to this room, knowing he would look for her here. She took the time to change out of her armor and placed it in the hall so it could be cleaned and oiled by morning. The servants had laid out a soft cotton shift and a warm robe and slippers, so she put them on and returned to sit by the fire and cry.  
She lost track of time as she sat there, replaying the last months; her wedding, Vaughan’s death, Ostagar, the Dalish, dwarves and mages, and Alistair. There was so much that had happened to her and now it was ending. On the morrow, she would drive the sword into the dragon to end the Blight and die; she was the one.  
The door opened quietly and she felt him come in. Seeing her by the fire, he shot the bolt and began to remove his weapons and armor. She rose from her place and came to undo the more difficult buckles on his breastplate and then knelt to unbuckle his greaves, removing them. The last was the arm guards which she took and placed outside the door with his other armor pieces to be returned in the morning. He laid his sword on the side table next to her bow and swords and daggers. He carefully propped Duncan’s shield against the table, caressing it before he did.  
When he turned around, he found that she had returned to the fire, arms crossed over her chest, staring. He came behind her and pulled her against him, wrapping his arms around her. “Are you all right?” she whispered. “I was worried.”  
“I…I was walking. I’m sorry you worried. I had a lot to think about tonight,” he explained.  
“I think we both do.”  
She turned around and looked up into his eyes. They were red rimmed with crying as were her own. She reached up and put her arms around his neck and held him tight, afraid to let go lest he leave her forever. They stayed that way for a long time, breathing in each other, committing every nuance of themselves to memorizing how the other felt and smelled; never wanting to forget.   
It was only then that they allowed themselves to take it all in, taking each other’s mouths as if they were drowning and only the other had the breath they needed to live. Their hands were everywhere, touching, feeling, and trying to remember. It was desperation.  
“No!” he said and released her, turning away. “I…Maker! I can’t! You said you will take the final blow!” He began to pace, “You can’t. You can’t! I’ll die without you!”  
“I will if I have the chance,” she said quietly and firmly.  
He took her shoulders roughly in his hands and shook her hard, holding her in place as she cried out in pain, “NO! We won’t decide this! Not now! If one of us must die, Lyn, then one of us will die. We won’t stand here and argue who!” He picked her up and took her to the bed as they both began to cry, and he pulled off his shirt and boots and joined her. “Not now, Lyn. Maker, please! Not now!” he pleaded as he undressed her, laying her bare for him.  
“Not now,” she whispered, taking him in.

@@@@@

Rosalyn woke before dawn, safe and sound in Alistair’s arms. Time was short for them, she knew and she turned to watch him as he slept. Sensing her, he opened his eyes and looked at her, his hand coming out to touch her face, caressing it lightly.   
“Alistair? Do you still want to marry me?” she asked.  
“Oh yes,” he said, smiling. “More than ever.”  
“Then let’s get married.”  
He laughed, “Now? If you haven’t noticed, there’s no priest here.”  
“So let’s go find one. There’s surely one here at the castle somewhere.”  
“She died in the attack of the walking dead. And the village chantry priest fled with the town.” Alistair thought for a minute, then got out of bed, went to the side table and came back with his father’s dagger. “Maybe there’s another way.” Rosalyn sat up and he sat back down across from her. “It takes some blood,” he explained.   
“Blood? It’s not magic, is it?”  
“Maker’s breath no! It’s a blood vow, love. Will you take one with me?” he asked fervently.  
“Yes,” she said quietly. He took her left hand in his and sliced it down the palm just enough to draw blood, then handed her the dagger and held out his left hand. She sliced a cut down his palm, then dropped the dagger.   
Alistair took her left hand in his left hand and pressed their palms together, holding them with his right hand. Rosalyn did the same. “Now repeat after me:”  
“We swear by peace and love to stand,   
Heart to heart and hand to hand.  
Mark, O Maker, and hear us now,   
Confirming this our Sacred Vow” **  
Rosalyn repeated the verse word for word after him. “Now you belong to me,” he said solemnly.  
“What was that we said? It was beautiful.”  
“It’s a blood vow between lovers. Before the Chantry, that’s how people got married. In some parts of the world, it’s still legal. Not in Ferelden, though, I’m sorry to say, but I mean it all the same.”  
“So do I. What happens now?” she asked.  
“This,” he said as he claimed her mouth, pulling her up to him as he moaned for her touch. She grasped him to her and drank from his lips as he laid her down on the bed and took her, urgent and aching, for what might be the last time. The came together, crying each other’s name in their passion, knowing it would be the last. Finally spent, they collapsed, holding each other as the sun rose.   
When the knock at the door came, they were ready.  
**Taken from a traditional Irish Vow of Unity

The Road to Denerim

When they reached the bailey yard, they were surprised to see Jowan waiting for them, dirty and tired but well. “When did you get here?” Rosalyn asked as she hugged him.  
“Late last night. I’ve been traveling nonstop for two days. The steward told me you had all gone to bed so he brought me to Riordan who was kind enough to find me a place to sleep.” He hesitated, then went on. “He’s told me what I need to know,” he said quietly.  
Alistair nodded and shook his hand, “It’s good to have you here. We need you. What happened? Avernus?”  
“Yes. He passed away last week. He had gathered all the research for me and went over it so I have a good understanding of what it is. I’ve made detailed notes on each part to help explain in case I’m not able to deliver it in person. It’s hidden at the Keep in a safe place and warded to keep anyone out. Levi says hello and hopes you will return sometime and see what all his family has done there. It’s something.   
“We’ll do that,” Rosalyn said.   
“Oh, I have these for you, from Avernus. He wanted you both to have them. He was adamant that I give them too you as soon as I saw you.”  
Alistair opened the pouch and pulled out a ring with the symbol of the Ferelden Chantry on it. “It’s…it’s his Circle ring. It must be old. They don’t make them like this anymore. Years ago the mages and the Templars would get the same rings. The Templars’ rings were gold and the mages’ silverite. Now only the Templars wear them like this.” He put it on his finger and could feel the magic running through it after decades of wear. “It’s runed; a rune of protection.” He smiled.  
“Avernus enchanted the ring himself. He said it will protect you from magical attacks as long as you wear it. It was little enough thanks for your kindness he said,” Jowan told him.  
Rosalyn opened the pouch Jowan handed her and pulled out a beautiful amulet of gold with a heart-shaped pendant carved with a single rose. “It’s beautiful!”   
“It belonged to his wife. Her name was Jara. They met at Weisshaupt when they served there. When the time came, he took her to the Deep Roads for her Calling and watched her die at the hands of the Darkspawn. In his grief, he used blood magic and destroyed them all. He said he felt he had nothing to lose after that and when the Wardens led the uprising against Arland, he joined gladly, hoping to die with them.”  
Inside the pouch, was a piece of paper with writing that said, “A worthy heart.” She looked up at Jowan and Alistair, “What does it mean?”   
Alistair looked at the note and smiled, “After Jowan’s joining, Avernus and I spoke while you were taking care of Jowan. He asked if you belonged to me, and I said you did. He told me: ‘Do not lose her. The pain is unbearable.’ I think he was talking about his wife but I didn’t pry.”  
She looked at the amulet in her hand then looked up at Alistair. She understood that type of love and so did he. Alistair took the amulet and put it around her neck, feeling the power of the enchantment.   
“Enchanted?” he asked.  
“Yes, like yours,” Jowan answered.   
“I wish I could thank him,” she said, sadly.  
Jowan shook his head, “He wouldn’t have wanted you to. Avernus knew he was damned and asked that he not be given funeral rites, so I burned his body and scattered his ashes to the winds. He died the way he wanted.” She put her hand on Jowan’s arm and squeezed, nodding her agreement.  
A shout went up from the yard as Eamon joined them and together they all mounted and headed out for the hard ride to Denerim and the war.

Denerim: The Final Battle

Denerim was in chaos. The Darkspawn had overrun the city two days before and had managed to carve footholds at the palace, the main city gates and Ft Drakon.   
The Grand Cleric had joined them earlier in the morning, resplendent in her light armor with the golden crest of the Chantry on its breast plate. She and her two dozen Templar guards had fled at the last minute, as soon as she knew her apprentices, sisters, brothers, servants, and other charges had escaped to the northern shores of the country. She had remained when she saw the army approaching. In her kindness, she had offered the services of her guards to combat the Darkspawn magic that was coursing through the city. Alistair thanked her profusely and assigned two of her guards to each of the divisions of troops that had assembled to storm the city, instructing them to remain in the forefront where they could sense magical attack and use their power to stop it. To each of these Templars he assigned troops to escort and protect them as they did their duty. Alistair kept four of the older Templars with the Grand Cleric, explaining that she would need their protection as would the king and the rest of the leaders.   
As they stood on the hill overlooking the city waiting for the army to assemble, Rosalyn could feel the Darkspawn calling, singing their song to join them. She shut her eyes tight and shook her head to clear it, but it stayed. Alistair pulled her close and held her, “Hold on, love. I feel it too. Center yourself.” She nodded and relaxed her body, breathing deeply and slow. When opened her eyes, she felt calmer and could concentrate better on the task at hand.  
Alistair pulled Rosalyn and Jowan aside, “It will only get worse from here out. We must focus and keep our minds on our objective, the Archdemon. Do whatever it takes to keep the song at bay. They want us to join them; they want us to fail.”  
“Anything?” Jowan asked carefully.  
Alistair smiled, “So you learned that one too, huh? Avernus, I suppose.”  
Jowan blushed and cleared his throat, “Actually it was Rosalyn.”  
Alistair looked down at her and narrowed his eyes while Rosalyn blushed with embarrassment at Jowan’s admission. “I only told him about it,” she explained, disgusted that he would even think such a thing.   
When he realized he had her, he laughed out loud, “I’m sure you did, love. I would expect nothing else from my wife.”  
Leliana overheard them and exclaimed, “Wife? You got married? You never said anything!”  
Alistair pulled Rosalyn close to him. “It’s not legal, but I call it a marriage.”  
“We made a vow this morning to bind us until we can do it up right,” she explained.   
“That’s so romantic! When all this is done, you simply must tell me the details.” When Alistair looked at her with a confused look, she continued, “For my song, silly. It will end with true love.” She kissed them both and took off to tell the others, humming as she went.  
Wynne had been listening and came to them as they stood on the hill. “So you did it, huh? I’m very happy for the both of you. Let me see your hands.” She pulled the gauntlets off their left hands and looked under the bandages at the wounds. “I should really heal those, they might get infected.”  
“No,” Rosalyn complained, jerking her hand back.” I want a scar. To remember.”  
“Me too,” added Alistair.  
Wynne shook her head, “Sounds foolish and horribly romantic. All right, I won’t heal them, but will you at least let me bandage them properly so you can use your weapons comfortably?”  
“Go ahead. I would like to hang on to my shield.”  
She bandaged both of them quickly then hugged them. “Maker keep the both of you and give you happiness.” With that, she went to wait with the rest.  
Alistair looked down at her, “A scar? I’m flattered.”  
Rosalyn smiled, “And a tattoo.”  
“Tattoo?” he asked excitedly, “When did you get a tattoo?”  
“I haven’t, but I’m going to. I told you I would.”  
He was intrigued and leaned in to whisper, “Where?”  
“That’s something you will have to find out, ser.”  
“Oh, a challenge! I accept and look forward to the hunt,” He leaned in, “I just wish it were now.”  
“Me too,” she replied as he slipped his arms around her and pulled her close. “Right now.”  
They stood for a while in each other’s arms, gathering their strength for the coming fight. When the shout went up that the forces were in place, Alistair bent down and kissed her, holding her tightly. “I love you, Lyn,” he whispered.  
“I love you, Alistair,” she whispered back.  
At the trumpet’s sound, they charged the gate and headed into the city and the end.

@@@@@

Alistair and Rosalyn’s work was cut out for them. Even after fighting the huge force of Darkspawn at Ostagar, their challenge now was monumental. The city was overrun and many had died, but there was warning enough for the bulk of the citizens to flee, leaving only stragglers and looters.   
Rosalyn prayed her father and Shianni had managed to escape to White Cliffs before the city was invaded. “I know your father left days before they arrived, love,” Alistair reassured her, “He sent the note, remember?”  
“I know, but what if he was late? And Shianni wasn’t planning on going with him. She wanted to stay and keep working and had arranged to stay with Valendrian and his family,” she argued.  
“They are safe, love. We must keep our minds on what we’re doing. We can do nothing for them now.” He put his hand out to her in reassurance and she took it.  
When they reached the gate, they found it had been torn off its mighty hinges and then jammed back into the space along with several tons of debris, effectively blocking their path. Rosalyn assessed the situation and called Jowan and Zevran to help her. “Just like in the Brecilian ruins, boys. Let’s blow it.” They both smiled and with Soris and Alistair’s help, set up the explosion.   
“Clear the area and take cover! Be ready to charge!” shouted Alistair as he turned his body away from the blast, shielding Rosalyn and Zevran with his shield. Wynne arrived and quickly cast a shield spell over them all as Jowan began to chant. As his chanting reached a fervent pitch, he cast out with lightning spell, followed by a powerful force spell. The gate exploded and rubble was thrown into the air, but the way was clear. The army charged through the gate, surprising the Darkspawn forces that manned the area. After a fierce two hour battle, the creatures had been thrown back and the main gates were theirs for the taking.   
Eamon set up his command post just outside the gate to allow for a quick retreat should the need arise. Riordan was conferring with him when Alistair, Rosalyn, and Jowan arrived.  
“So there is no other way?” asked a worried Eamon.  
“Our forces are only four in number, your majesty. The only other way would be to allow your men to fight everything they encountered, losing many lives unnecessarily. Even then, there is no guarantee you could even reach the Archdemon and wound it enough for one of us to kill it,” reiterated Riordan. “This will work.”  
Eamon nodded, “Very well, Riordan. You know best about how to do this. Get yourself in there and kill it. We will hold our position here and wait for half a day before we enter the city unless we get your signal. We’ll meet at Ft Drakon. Maker watch over you.”  
Riordan nodded to the king and turned to his Wardens. “Alistair, take Rosalyn and Jowan and one other into the city. Our objective will be Ft Drakon. I will enter by a different path and try to lure the dragon to the top of the fort. There we can use the ballistas that have been stored for the city’s defense to bring it down. If I can bring it down before then; so much the better for us.”  
“You’re luring it to the top of the fort?” asked a puzzled Alistair.  
Riordan nodded, “Loghain had the ballistas mounted on the roof of the fort to allow for them to be used against the army if it attacked him. He’s set up a perfect situation for us; we will defeat the dragon just as they did four hundred years ago.”  
“So we could turn them on it and bring it down enough to finish it,” added Rosalyn.   
Riordan nodded and handed her a horn he had slung across his chest from a lanyard. “Take this. There are several units of allies stationed throughout the city. Use this to call them if you need their help. There are two Darkspawn generals in the city that I know about. If you find them, kill them. It will cause much chaos within their ranks as it will interrupt the song.”  
“We will take Leliana with us. We will need her bow skills,” announced Alistair. He turned to Sten, “You will be in command of the defense of the gates. If there is no sign of us in a two days’ time, evacuate the forces and regroup at Highever. No exceptions.” Sten nodded his agreement.  
Rosalyn shivered as she thought about what he had just ordered Sten to do. He was to abandon them and consider their mission into the city a failure. Alistair noticed the change and looked down at her. She smiled weakly and nodded her head in agreement. They had to succeed.

@@@@@

The Wardens and Leliana made sure they were well-provisioned before they entered the city as they had no idea what they might find along the way. Wynne loaded them up with health and lyrium potions as well as food and water. Oghren handed Rosalyn his rucksack and she was surprised to find it full of health potions. “What’s all this?” she asked.  
“I took you seriously when you said I should carry them. Here they are,” was his reply.   
Rosalyn smiled and laughed, then leaned over and kissed the dwarf on the cheek. “Be well, Oghren.”  
“May the stone guide you, Warden and thank you for all you’ve done for me.”  
Wynne hugged her and wished both she and Alistair luck, “Maker watch over you,” she said. “I still want to dance at your wedding, the real one.”  
Alistair kissed her cheek and murmured, “Yes, mother.” She batted him away and they both laughed as she walked to join the others.   
Sten was stoic as usual, “You have given me back my honor and chance to redeem myself. I don’t know if I have but I thank you for the chance. Fight well and may we find each other in the Qun.” He uncharacteristically shook Alistair and Jowan’s hands and rested his hands on Rosalyn and Leliana’s shoulders, squeezing them slightly before withdrawing and taking his place on the line.  
Zevran was last to say farewell, “I had hoped to finish this business with you but oh well.” He took a step forward, “You took me into your group, and your family, taking a huge risk in doing so. You have given me my freedom and I have given you my sword. It is well with us, I think. May the Maker smile upon you today and grant you this victory you so deserve.” He shook Alistair and Jowan’s hands and kissed Leliana’s cheek. He turned to Rosalyn and took her in his arms and kissed her hard, his emotions running high. It took a loud clearing of Alistair’s throat to stop him.  
“I said chaste, not obscene,” Alistair remarked angrily.  
“I was in the moment, my friend.” He bowed to them and smiled his Zevran smile then strode off to find his place in the field, leaving them alone.  
Rosalyn’s face was flushed with the excitement of Zevran’s kiss, causing Alistair to look at her with a perturbed look. With one quick motion he swooped her up in his arms and kissed her hard with all the passion he had. “Just so you remember who you are marrying, love.” He let her go and smiled when he saw how unsteady on her feet she was.  
“Wow! Can I have one of those?” asked Leliana.  
Alistair smiled and kissed her cheek. “One for you,” he said.   
Leliana laughed and hugged him tightly. “That works too,” she conceded. “Maker keep you.”  
Jowan stepped forward and hugged Rosalyn tightly for a moment then released her. “Thank you for believing in me. I’ll…I’ll try to be the best Warden I can.” He looked over at Alistair, “Like both of you.” Alistair took his hand in both of his and shook it firmly.  
“You’ll be fine, Jowan. I know,” Rosalyn replied.  
“Maker watch over you Jowan, and thank you for everything,” Alistair said, putting his hand on the mage’s shoulder. He smiled and walked over to speak to Leliana, leaving them alone for a moment.  
Alistair turned to her and looked down, memorizing her face. “I know we said our goodbyes earlier but…I love you! Maker’s breath and Andraste’s mercy I do!” He pulled her into his arms and held her tightly, his face buried in her hair. “I don’t want to let go,” he whispered.   
“I don’t either,” she whispered back. “I wish…never mind! I love you Alistair and you were right. It is funny how the Blight brings people together!”  
Alistair laughed then, nervous but joyful. “Shall we go say hello to the Archdemon?”  
“Let’s,” she replied.  
He took her hand then and led the way with Jowan and Leliana coming into step behind them, the army cheering them as they walked into the city and their biggest battle.

The Market District

The four traveled through the deserted streets of the city, sneaking along the side streets to conserve their energy as they went. Their first destination was the Market District.   
Alistair looked at Jowan and Rosalyn, “Can you feel that? The song is louder.”  
“What does it mean?” asked Jowan.  
Rosalyn pricked her ears as Alistair had discovered that not only were they very attractive but highly functional in that she could hear many noises he couldn’t. “A general,” she said.  
“Can you tell where?” asked Alistair.  
“Not really but it seems to be stronger towards the chantry.”  
Leliana and Rosalyn moved forward, allowing Alistair and Jowan to cover them as they scouted the market. They spotted at least three ogres and a Darkspawn mage. They backed up quickly and returned to cover. “Ogres, at least three and a mage or two. I think the general is beyond.”  
“The Circle mages are nearby, we could get them to help us. Their combined power would be enough to stop the Darkspawn mages,” suggested Jowan.  
“Go get them,” Alistair said. “We’ll stay here until you get back. Be careful!” Jowan nodded and took off in the direction of the Circle mages last known position. He returned a half hour later with a dozen mages.  
“We will go in and start the attack but we need you to cover us as we go through the market. There are at least three ogres and one or two Darkspawn mages. At the other end we will find the general. He is our target here. Once we find him, all weapons must be trained on him to take him out. Got it?”  
The mages were all in agreement and formed up behind them, one or two casting enchantments on their weapons so they would do more damage. Alistair and Leliana took point with Rosalyn and Jowan coming in behind with bow and magic. The ogres were the immediate danger so they teamed up and took them out. The mages took out the far ones quickly which left the near one to the Wardens. Alistair managed to finish it off with a sword blow to the monster’s chest.   
They had little time to catch their breath when they spied the Darkspawn mage at the corner of a building preparing to cast at them. The mages were on him quickly as Alistair cast Holy Smite and drained some of its mana. It only took another minute to bring it down. The group took stock of their wounds and received healing from one of the mage healers. They continued on, searching for the general.  
“There,” Rosalyn said, as they approached Goldanna’s house. The general stood in the chantry courtyard, surveying the damage. The song was getting louder as they approached and Rosalyn had to stop a moment and put her hands over her ears while she gained some control.  
“All right love?” Alistair asked.   
“It’s so close,” she told him. “He knows we are here.”  
“Then let’s not disappoint him.” He turned to the mages, “Concentrate your fire on the general over near the chantry. Bring him down!”  
They proceeded to do just that. While the general may have known the Wardens were coming, he had no way to know who they were with. He lay dead just a few short minutes later and so did all his minions.   
The mages cheered and patted each other on the back when they won, then saw to their wounds. Alistair found his sister’s house unlocked so they spent an hour resting there with the mages to guard them, their first hurdle overcome.

The Alienage

Alistair looked at the map of the city spread out on the table, trying to determine the best route to get to the fort. “Looks like the best way is through the Alienage. The streets are narrower there, but there will be more cover if we should come upon a raiding party, and I’m sure we will.” He looked over at Rosalyn, “What do you sense, love?”  
“Hard to say, but the song is strongest in the direction of the Alienage. The other general could be there.” She closed her eyes for a moment, listening to the song as it filtered through her and around her. It was stronger than she’d ever felt but she could also sense a change in it. “Do you hear? The song is changing.”  
Jowan closed his eyes and listened, “It’s different. Why is that?”  
“They know we are coming,” answered Alistair. “They are warning each other. It’s like the first battles at Ostagar. The Wardens took the front and when they did, the song changed. They were warning each other.”  
“Cheery thought,” said Leliana sarcastically.  
“Everyone ready to go?” They all agreed. “Then let’s go get it,” Alistair said and they departed the house for the Alienage gate.  
Rosalyn was nervous as they passed into her old home. Many of the buildings had collapsed or were burning and there were a few bodies lying here and there. As they approached the Vhenadahl they were surprised to find Shianni and several of the younger elves, all carrying bows.   
“Roz! Alistair! I’m so glad to see you both!” She rushed up and hugged them. “We are under attack! There’s a large group of Darkspawn and the gates won’t hold. What should we do?” Shianni was frantic.  
Rosalyn took her cousin’s hands as Alistair put his arm around her. “I need you to help me, Shianni. Can you do that?” Shianni nodded. “I need you to get everyone who hasn’t gotten out and take them out through the market and out to the main city gates. The king is there and he will see you all protected. Those of you who wish to stay and fight with him will be welcome.”   
“They’re coming!” yelled one of the other elves.  
“Stay back!” Alistair shouted at them. “Defend yourselves only if you have no choice. Get out of here!” He looked down at Shianni. “Go cousin, get them out,” He kissed her cheek and she nodded then hugged Rosalyn. “Find Soris, he’s at the main gate, have him tell the king who you are and where we are. If you see any fighters as you run, send them this way.” She nodded and took off, rousing everyone she could find to knock on doors and get people moving.  
“She’ll be all right,” Alistair said as he watched her go. “She will get them out.” There was a huge crash as the Darkspawn began to break down the gates. “Better use that,” he told her, indicating the horn. “We need help here.”  
Rosalyn blew the horn as loud and long as she could and was surprised to see a contingent of Dalish bowmen join them not long after. Their leader was a painted middle aged man in green leathers, “The red haired girl sent us to you. What would you have us do, Grey Warden?”  
“Line up your men on either side of the gate and behind us. Shoot anything that gets in your way but if the general shows, concentrate all your fire on it. We must bring it down!” ordered Alistair. The Dalish leader agreed and posted his bowmen in places of concealment all around the gate. Alistair looked down at Rosalyn, “Take Leliana and join them, love. It’s what you are best at. I love you.” She smiled and kissed him quickly, grabbing Leliana and heading to climb the roof of a nearby shed. It gave them unobstructed shots at the Darkspawn, allowing them to duck and cover easily. There they waited for Alistair’s signal.

@@@@@

The ogre pounded on the gate unmercifully, sending shards of wood flying into the air as the gate began to disintegrate. The Dalish were stationed all around the opening in places of concealment on top of buildings, between them and even in doorways. Anywhere there was cover, they crouched, arrows nocked and ready. Rosalyn and Leliana found a small flat spot at the top of the roof where it wasn’t so sloped where they could crouch in relative comfort and be hidden from view.   
Alistair and Jowan took their places in front of the gate with a contingent of dwarven warriors who had been sent by the Circle mages to help them. Jowan prepared to cast, pulling a dagger from his belt with one hand and holding his staff with the other. Alistair looked over at him and his eyebrows rose a bit as he realized what the mage intended. “May I?” Jowan asked.  
“By all means, do,” Alistair answered, smiling. “And I do mean all means.” Jowan smiled back and cast a simple spell to augment Alistair’s sword. “Thanks, Jowan. Be careful.”  
“You too, Alistair. That should heat things up for them when you slice.” Alistair laughed at that.  
The ogre pounded three more times as Alistair looked up at Rosalyn, throwing his Warden sense out to check on her. It was harder with all the Darkspawn so near, but he found her and saw her smile as she sensed him. She looked down and nodded her readiness.  
“Be ready!” he yelled, pulling his shield in front of him and raising his sword for the charge to come. The ogre hit the gate once more and it gave, falling into pieces. “Fire!” he shouted and arrows flew at the creature and the Darkspawn that streamed around it. A fire bomb hit the ogre from above and Alistair smiled as it hit, bursting into flames and setting many of the enemy on fire. “Good one, love,” he said as he engaged the first of the warriors to make it through the gate.   
Rosalyn prepared another bomb to throw towards the gate when she saw the general as it stood near the bridge to the next district. “There!” she cried out to Leliana and the nearby bowmen, “Aim for him! Don’t stop until it’s down!” She dipped her arrow in a pot of poison and loosed the arrow at the creature, noticing that hers was followed by a dozen more. The general staggered but found its footing quickly and began to cast a spell. “Alistair! The general! He’s casting!” she yelled.  
Jowan cast an electrical storm at the gate to slow the creatures entering the Alienage so Alistair used it to buy time to call his power, casting at the general until his power was low, draining the creature’s mana as much as he could. It could still cast, but its spells were limited to a more local area, making a ranged attack more effective against it. “Keeping on it, love!” he told her, watching her shoot as fast as she could. Leliana kept up and with the help of the Dalish, the general was brought down.   
All that was left were the grunts and hurlocks, dazed but still effective. They outnumbered the ground forces three to one. “Get them back!” Jowan told him. “I’ll need room to cast!”   
Alistair gave the command for the ground troops to pull back to the rear and regroup. He looked up at Rosalyn and gave her a signal and she ordered the bowmen to duck and cover. Jowan had begun chanting and was building the spell to a fevered pitch. Alistair could feel the power flowing from him, stronger than anything he had felt with the exception of Uldred’s spells. He called his own power as a precaution and pulled a healing potion and a poultice out of his pack.  
As the spell reached its peak, Jowan sliced his wrist and let the blood hit the ground as he kept chanting as long as he could. Just as he was ready to collapse to the ground, he cast a force spell and the ground before them rose up against the oncoming Darkspawn, burying them under a torrent of dirt and rubble. Alistair commanded a charge as soon as the torrent was finished, and the ground troops began to mop up the leftover Darkspawn.   
Alistair looked up to see if Rosalyn and Leliana were all right and found them climbing down from their perch to join him. He knelt down and fed Jowan the healing potion, then bandaged his wrist. The young mage began to rouse and moan a bit. “Did it work?” he asked anxiously as his began to gather his power for another strike.  
“Relax, Jowan. You did it. Great job! Are you all right?” he asked.  
Jowan shook the cobwebs out, “I could use a lyrium potion.” Alistair rummaged through Jowan’s pack and handed him one.   
Rosalyn fell to her knees next to Jowan and stroked his hair. “Well done!” she said. “That was incredible!” She leaned over him to give Alistair a reassuring kiss before she settled back down to check the mage.   
“I think I’m okay now,” Jowan said. “We should get going.” He slowly rose to stand before them, unsteady but stronger.  
Alistair shook his head. “The king has moved into the city by now so we should rest a bit to let him catch up. If we meet him at the fort then we can storm it together. I sense a large presence of Darkspawn moving that way. We’ll need the army if we expect to get through it.” He turned to the Dalish leader. “Thank you for your help. We couldn’t have done this without you. Would you see that the residents here in the Alienage are evacuated and have safe passage out of the city?”  
“Of course, ser. Thank you for your kindness. May the gods be with you,” the Dalish leader said. He saluted them and gathered his men to head back into the Alienage to search for survivors.  
Alistair looked down at Rosalyn, “How about we head home for a bit to rest?” She smiled and led the way back to her house.

@@@@@

Alistair awoke to a pounding on the door of the house. Jowan was up first to answer it, calling on his power in case he had to defend himself. He opened the door to find a young Dalish elf there with a pouch in his hand. “Messages for the Wardens, ser mage; I was told to wait for an answer,” said the boy.   
Jowan took the pouch. “Have you had anything to eat?” he asked him.  
“No ser. I’ve running everywhere all day,” answered the elf.  
“Come in and get something, you’ll not likely get anything else for a while.” He gestured to the table where fruit, cheese and bread lay waiting. “I’ll get you some water.” He walked to the back of the room and knocked on the door to the bedroom. “Alistair? There’s a messenger from the king.”   
“Coming Jowan!” he called. He leaned over and kissed Rosalyn as she lay asleep in his arms where she had been since they arrived three hours before. “Time to get up love. Back to work.” He sat up and pulled on his boots and grabbed his shield and sword. Turning back, he saw she had closed her eyes again and was already fast asleep. Smiling, he leaned down and kissed the top of her head. “Sleep love, we might not get any more for a while.” He stood up and quietly left her.  
“What’s the news?” he asked Jowan as he sat down at the table. Alistair greeted the young messenger with a smile and reached for an apple.   
“Eamon wants us to meet him at the Fort as you thought. He’s not expected to be in position for another couple of hours though. He wants us to wait for him so we can have the necessary cover. I guess that means we can sleep a bit more,” Jowan told him.  
Alistair nodded and yawned, “I could use some more. Lyn won’t even wake up, she’s so tired.”  
“So is Leliana. I just left her. There’s more news though…Riordan is dead.”  
Alistair shook his head, thinking of the senior Warden. “How?”  
“Eamon says he managed to wound the Archdemon so that it can’t fly. He had jumped onto its back and was thrown off to his death. The dragon is on the roof of Fort Drakon right now. His men are keeping the Darkspawn from getting there to protect it but it will soon find a way to heal itself. Avernus said they are like us, they heal fast.”  
“He was right. They do. It’s about an hour trip from here to the fort. Let’s get another hour or two of sleep and then go. The sun should be full up by then. Maker knows we will need the daylight.” Alistair looked to the young Dalish, “Stay here for a bit and rest. Then tell the king we will meet him at the fort in three hours.” The Dalish smiled and nodded, then tore into a piece of bread.  
Alistair took a long drink of water and ate the last of the cheese before he rose to return to the bedroom. He closed the door behind him and leaned back against it, closed his eyes, and sighed. “What is it?” Rosalyn asked quietly.  
“Riordan is dead,” he said sadly. “Killed while trying to stop the dragon.”  
Rosalyn sat up. “What now?” she asked, knowing what he would say.  
“It’s up to us; you, me and Jowan.”  
She rose from the bed and stood before him. “Then we will kill it.” She put her arms around him and he held her tightly.   
“We will,” he replied.

The Palace District

Three hours later the group found themselves at the gates to the palace, watching a large group of Darkspawn as they moved around inside. “Any ideas?” asked Alistair.  
“None that we could do easily. I say we wait for Eamon,” suggested Jowan.  
“It seems a hopeless task. There are so many,” Leliana added. “Perhaps I could see if I could find another way; the sewers perhaps?”  
Rosalyn shook her head. “I know all the sewers around here. None of them will get us to the other side. They don’t connect.”  
Alistair looked down at her and smiled; he always loved it when she went into smuggler’s mode. “So what do we do then?” he asked. “The only way to the fort from here is through there unless we want to backtrack for miles around the city.”  
“Let’s storm it,” Rosalyn suggested.  
“What! You want to just run in there, weapons blazing and storm the place?”  
“Sure. Why not? Kardol and his legionnaires are just over there, they’d be glad to help us after what we did for them.”  
Alistair looked back into the courtyard then turned back. “Okay. What do the rest think?”  
“Let’s do it,” answered Leliana. Jowan nodded his agreement.   
“Then let’s go get them,” Alistair announced. The four of them headed to talk to the legionnaires. An hour later, they had a plan and fifty men to help them. “On my signal….now!’  
Jowan set off the bombs that Rosalyn had planted at the foot of the gate with an electrical spell. They went off with a bang and the gate flew off its hinges and landed a few feet beyond. The legion stormed in followed by the Wardens, catching the Darkspawn off guard. At the top of the stairway, they discovered two sorcerers who were in command of the lesser fighters. Alistair disabled their magic and the dwarves made short work of them and the rest.   
At the top of the next set of stairs, they discovered a larger force of Darkspawn who were supported by two large ogres. Alistair had the dwarves concentrate on the regular ground troops while the Wardens took out the ogres. Leliana and Rosalyn emptied their quivers into each one while Jowan alternately cast ice and lightning spells on them to wear them down. Both were brought down by Leliana and Alistair and carefully placed sword thrusts to their necks.  
“Amazing Wardens! Well done!” cheered Kardol and his men when they had finished. He handed a flask to Alistair, “Take a load off son. You earned it!”  
Alistair took a draw on the flask and smiled. “Brandy! The good stuff! Where did you come across this?”  
“Oh, I get around. Oghren is a friend of mine too.” They both laughed at that. “To you, Wardens!” He took a deep swig and handed the flask to Rosalyn.  
She took a deep drink, coughing afterward. “That’s the good stuff? What’s the bad taste like?”  
Kardol and Alistair laughed at her and Alistair put his arm around her and hugged her. “We should get going. Keep safe, Kardol. Hope to see you when this is over and swap some stories.”  
“Me too, Warden. Ancestors keep you.”  
“And may the Maker keep you,” Alistair replied, shaking the legion commander’s hand. Kardol motioned for his men to move and they took off in the direction they came to join the army as it made its assault on the fort.  
Rosalyn scoured the Darkspawn bodies for arrows to replenish her dwindling supply as she had used most of them in the Alienage battle. The group took a short rest to eat, sharpen their swords and tend their wounds before heading to Fort Drakon and the end.

Fort Drakon

King Eamon met them just outside the fort’s gates where he had assembled his forces. “They have fortified the place well. So far we’ve seen sorcerers, dragon thralls and troops by the score in there; all waiting for us.”   
“We need to get in there and fast. There is no telling how long the Archdemon will stay up there,” warned Alistair. He looked over at Rosalyn and Jowan, “Shall we storm it?”  
“Why not? It worked before,” agreed Rosalyn and Jowan both.  
“Well, all right then,” Alistair said. “I need at least fifty men to help us. Lyn? Time to blow the door again.”  
The troops lined up just outside the gate, waiting for the signal to enter. Rosalyn and Leliana prepared the blast carefully, then stood back. Jowan called his power and cast at the bombs, igniting them and destroying the gate. The troops swarmed the courtyard and began to attack at will. A group of Dalish bowmen, with Rosalyn’s help, attacked the dragons, bringing them down quickly while the ground troops took out the grunts and shrieks.   
Two sorcerers stood on the steps casting spells to confuse and slow the troops. Eamon sent two Templars in to disable their magic so the soldiers could finish them off quickly. With the sorcerers gone the rest of the operation was easier.   
When the Darkspawn were cleared from the door, Alistair and Eamon conferred on their next action. “We need to get up there as soon as we can. Keep a force here to discourage any more Darkspawn reinforcements but let me take as many as you can spare up to the roof. Even though it takes a Warden to kill it, the Archdemon can still be hurt by conventional means, and hurt badly.”  
“I’ll stay here and wait for Teagan’s men to join me. He should be nearly here by now. They should give me enough troops to keep everything out. Take the Dalish and the Legion troops with you. I’ll send mine up as soon as they get here.” Eamon took a drink from his water skin and handed it to Alistair. “I owe you an apology, son. I should have never interfered in your life like I did. She’s wonderful and you should never let her go.” He looked over at Rosalyn as she sat with Leliana and Jowan and some of the Legion troops, talking.  
“She is and I don’t intend to, uncle,” he replied, smiling down at his love. She looked up at him and smiled back.  
Eamon cleared his throat a bit, stalling for the right words, “I wanted to tell you one other thing, son.” He put his hand on Alistair’s shoulder. “You would have made a fine king.”  
“We’ll never know, will we?” he replied mischievously. “Besides, I think she chose well and I’m more than happy with that choice. Maker keep you uncle, you will need it.”  
“Indeed I will, son. Indeed I will,” he laughed. “Shall we end this?”  
“Yes, we should.” Alistair turned to go but stopped and turned around to Eamon. “Do you still have my will?”   
“I do. It’s at Redcliffe. Why?”  
“Make sure it’s kept. I want it to the letter, please. Take care of her.”  
Eamon nodded, understanding all too well. “I will.”  
Alistair smiled his dazzling smile at the man he all but called father. “Thank you, uncle.”  
“You’re welcome, son.”

@@@@@

Alistair led Rosalyn, Leliana and Jowan through the doors into the fort. The Legion and Dalish troops followed them; fanning out to check all the rooms they entered. They were pleased to discover that most of the Darkspawn had been outside defending the gate instead of inside. They worked their way through the main hall where they met a conjurer who summoned demons to attack them from all sides. The group formed a circle and Alistair made sure that Rosalyn was in the center to protect her. He wanted no experiences like they had had at Ostagar or the Deep Roads.   
The combined strength of the dwarven warriors and Dalish bowmen made short work of the demons and Alistair was able to drain the mana of the conjurer quickly, enabling the bowmen to finish it off. “That worked well,” he joked. “On we go.”  
He led the way to the next room where they came upon several traps that Leliana and Rosalyn were able to dismantle quickly. As they entered the narrow hallway, they were attacked by a large group of walking dead, summoned by another Darkspawn mage. The Wardens took out the mage while the rest worked on the dead creatures. From there it was a room to room search as they went, killing every Darkspawn they encountered on every floor.   
The last room was an atrium with a large set of double doors that opened onto the rooftop. It was guarded by a powerful Genlock sorcerer and two huge ogres. Alistair and the Wardens concentrated on the sorcerer with Alistair casting mana drain over and over to weaken the creature, and finally using Holy Smite. Rosalyn, Leliana and Jowan rained arrows and magic down on it and Alistair delivered the killing blow just as the last ogre dropped to the floor dead.  
The group stopped for a bit to rest and heal before going on. Rosalyn suggested they send scouts to the roof to check on the situation. Three of the Dalish volunteered to go and quietly snuck out through the big doors and out onto the roof. The returned quickly with tales of the dragon beating down everything that was thrown at it. Several troops were already on the roof and had engaged the creature but were dying off quickly as the dragon continued to fight. “Are the ballistas there and mounted as we thought?” asked Alistair.  
“Yes ser, but no one is manning them that we could tell. There seems to be plenty of ammunition to use, just not enough men.” replied the hunter.  
“Good job. Go and report to your superior and rest a bit.” The Dalish saluted him and left to find their comrades. “We need to find anyone who can operate those ballistas. I can, but I don’t know what to do if they are jammed. They fire like bows.” He turned to Kardol, “Do any of your men know how?”  
“I’ll check. I have some who have used crossbows. They might be knowledgeable.” He left to speak to his men.   
Rosalyn slumped to the floor slowly. “What is it, love?” asked a worried Alistair.  
“I think I need healing,” she said weakly. Jowan was at her side immediately, removing her breast plate. She moaned as he probed her abdomen.  
“It’s your old injury, I think. I can heal you but I don’t know how long it will last. With what we have to do, it might not hold for long. You need a long rest,” Jowan said. He looked up at Alistair. “Blood magic won’t help here either.”  
Rosalyn shook her head, “Do what you can and I’ll be all right. I’ll stick to the bow and stay back.”  
Alistair shook his head, “I know you think you can do this, love, and I won’t tell you that you can’t. Just know I object to it all and I’ll leave it at that.” He bent down and kissed the top of her head, whispering, “We’ll argue later about it.”  
“I look forward to that,” she said, smiling at his words, even though it hurt. He sat down next to her and gathered her up in his arms, trying to keep from jarring her.  
“I guess the time is here, love,” he told her.  
“I guess it is. What do you want to do?”  
He pulled her closer. “Right now I want to enjoy this since it may be my last time. That okay with you?”  
“More than okay, love,” she replied.  
He smiled and kissed the top of her head as he stroked her hair. “I know you want to do this, but so do I. So, I have a proposition for you. We’ll do it together. Let the Archdemon decide it all.”  
“You mean we both wield the sword at the same time? What if it doesn’t work?”  
“The Archdemon will navigate through the taint to the nearest one. Whoever it is, we won’t know until it’s too late. It could still kill us both.”  
Rosalyn thought about life without Alistair and knew he was thinking the same thoughts. “Okay, on one condition.”  
“What’s that?”  
“No matter who dies, the other must live on. I don’t want to go to my death knowing you gave up. Please!”  
Alistair smiled and there were tears in his eyes. “Me either. Live for me love and I’ll live for you.”  
Rosalyn sniffed, “I will. I swear.” She held up her left hand with the bandage and he held up his, grasping hers tightly.   
“I swear,” he said.

Fort Drakon Roof

They found a dozen men who could fire the ballistas and keep them going if they jammed. The Dalish scouts reported that there were five ballistas scattered around the rooftop along with hundreds of rounds of ammunition. Alistair set two men to each one to fire and two more to resupply the ammunition and fight off any attackers that might show. The rest of them would engage the Archdemon directly, hoping to harry the beast and keep its attention away from the ballistas. The Dalish bowmen were to take stations at a distance, firing at will and the Legionnaires would be attacking the creature head on.   
Jowan would stay back with the bowmen and other mages, moving around as he needed; casting spells against the dragon to slow it down. Leliana joined one of the crews at a ballista and was cheered by her comrades as she broke into popular drinking song to calm their nerves and create a working rhythm.  
Alistair put Rosalyn on a ballista crew where she would fire her bow and keep the machine from jamming. Her injury would not allow her to do much more so she promised she would stay back until it was time to slay the creature. Alistair placed himself at the head of the dwarven warriors, a giant amongst them, leading them into what would no doubt be their deaths. He laughed, “Last one standing, buys the drinks!” The Legionnaires cheered him, ready to follow him to the end.  
When it was time, the Wardens stood at the door and the warriors became silent as the Archdemon screamed. Kardol said the last to them all, “Ancestors, Gods and Maker be with us all today.” There were bowed heads and nods from all.  
Alistair looked over at Jowan, “Ready?”  
“I’m ready,” he replied, smiling. “Let’s send him back to the Black City.”  
Alistair asked Leliana. “Ready?”  
She smiled and nodded, “Let’s go.”  
Alistair looked down at Rosalyn, who had pulled her bow and checked its bowstring. ”Ready. love?”  
She looked up, “I love you, Alistair. I’m ready.”  
“I love you, Lyn.” He turned to the rest of the company, “Let’s go!” He and Jowan pushed open the doors and they ran out onto the roof, taking their assigned stations with accuracy and precision.  
The Archdemon screamed as it sensed the Wardens’ presence and began to rain fire down upon them. Three of the groups were able to get ballistas firing on it immediately while the others began shortly after. Leliana’s group could be heard singing as they worked in a quick rhythm; a strange contrast to the unearthly shrieks coming from the dragon.  
Rosalyn’s group was nearest the Archdemon’s location and began to fire at the creature’s chest to avoid hitting Alistair or any of the warriors that were fighting below. The Dalish bowmen loosed flight after flight of arrows at the dragon, harrying it and making it more and more susceptible to the warriors’ attacks.  
Repeatedly the Archdemon would find its wing and try to take flight, only to return to the rooftop where it started. Each time, Rosalyn felt that it was getting stronger and would soon be off the roof for good. She had her crew double their efforts on the ballista.   
Alistair fought as a man possessed, for his king, his country and his love; all were foremost in his awareness as he slashed at the dragon with everything he had. He called his power over and over, casting Holy Smite and draining mana from the Archdemon; anything he could do to slow it down.   
“Warden!” yelled Kardol as he pointed to the doors on the other side of the rooftop. They had opened and Darkspawn had begun to stream in.  
“Half of you take them!” Alistair yelled to the dwarves, who did his bidding and engaged the Darkspawn.   
Rosalyn saw the Darkspawn as they entered, “Crap!” she cursed. “You there!” she yelled at a young Dalish bowman. “Go find the king. Tell him we must have everything he can spare. Now!” The boy ran off and she suddenly remembered who he was, Cammen, from the Dalish tribe they had visited. “Keep going! Don’t let it stop!” she yelled at her crew. The ballista jammed and she was forced to clear it, wincing from the pain it caused to do so.  
Jowan moved back and forth between two of the ballista emplacements, casting lightning and ice storms at the Arch demon to slow it down. He downed another lyrium potion as he called on his power, sending rejuvenating energy towards the dwarven warriors and Alistair as they fought, giving them the needed stamina to keep doing the impossible.

@@@@@

The pace continued for over an hour when the double doors finally burst open with a crash and the Redcliffe knights, led by Ser Perth, entered the battle, fresh and strong, engaging the Archdemon directly. A group of mages followed and joined Jowan, casting ice and lightning spells at will.   
Alistair stepped back and headed to the doors where Eamon stood with his guards, watching the carnage around him. He sank to his knees in front of his uncle, who knelt down and fed him a healing potion and water as Alistair caught his breath. “It’s weakening, sire. Another hour or so, I think,” he reported.  
“Then let’s give them another hour, men,” Eamon announced, patting his nephew on the shoulder. “Rest son. I’ll buy you some time.” With that the king ran out into the field, engaging the Darkspawn with his great sword swinging high.   
Alistair drank another drink of water and stood up, smiling at his king and uncle as he slashed the enemy with a vigor he’d never seen. He stood up and ran back to the fight, his strength replenished.   
Rosalyn sank to her knees as the pain in her stomach became too intense to bear, prompting one of the Dalish to yell for a healer. The mage cast a healing spell on her and gave her a strong potion. “You must rest, Warden. It will kill you if you don’t.”  
“And I’ll die anyway if I do,” she answered. She closed her eyes and reached out to Alistair as he fought beside the Redcliffe and dwarven knights. He was strong and well, she discovered to her joy. “Not yet,” she said to herself. “Not yet!” She stood and pulled her bow and fired at will at the Archdemon’s head, aiming for its eyes. The fourth arrow connected and the creature screamed as the blood flowed from it wounded eye. She began to aim for the second one, her vision narrowing as she focused in on that one small target. She shot arrow after arrow at it when she finally connected, embedding the arrowhead deep in the dragon’s one good eye and blinding it.  
When Jowan noticed that the dragon couldn’t see, he ordered the mages to cast freeze spells at it in an attempt to bring it down. “Don’t kill it! Just bring it down.”  
The dragon slowed and began to stop its attacks, weaving unsteadily on its feet as its wings flapped against its body. The Dalish kept shooting arrows at it as Alistair ordered the warriors back and had them engage the Darkspawn troops that were still on the rooftop. He stepped back quickly as the dragon began to fall, hitting the rooftop with a crash that shook the building.   
“No!” he hollered as several warriors began to run at it to strike. “Leave it. This is where the Wardens must take over.” The men stepped back and joined their comrades in deference to his status.   
Rosalyn, Jowan and Leliana joined him quickly, watching the dragon in its death throes. “Is this it?” asked Jowan.  
“Yes,” answered Alistair. He turned to Leliana and kissed her cheek. “Go to the king and stay with him, Leliana. You cannot help us now.” She nodded and kissed them all then turned to run to Eamon as he stood some distance away with his knights, watching them.  
Rosalyn knelt down and picked up a discarded broadsword, checking its sharpness. She walked to Alistair’s side and held it out. “For the Grey Wardens,” she said, smiling.  
“For Ferelden,” he said, adding, “and you, love.” He put his hands on hers and they started walking towards the Archdemon as it lay helpless on the roof.   
Suddenly they found themselves unable to move, stuck in their tracks with a paralysis spell. Jowan approached them and stood in front of them. “I’m sorry but I have to do this. I have to make amends for what I’ve done,” he told them. He took the sword out of their hands and placed a small pouch in Rosalyn’s pocket. “It’s the location of Avernus’ research and the key to get it.” Looking over at Alistair, he stashed Duncan’s dagger into Alistair’s belt, then stood back, “I love you both for what you have done for me. Live well and care for each other.” He cast a strong shield spell over them and laid down his staff, taking up the sword. He climbed the Archdemon’s neck and gathered his power, plunging the sword into the dragon’s neck. The creature screamed an unearthly scream as it died, glowing with all the energy it possessed. Jowan gritted his teeth and twisted the blade, using his magic to give him more strength, pulsing it into the sword to give it power.   
All at once, Rosalyn and Alistair were freed from the paralysis spell and were thrown back hard as the Archdemon died and its power was released in an explosion that shook the roof and the buildings beyond.   
Then there was silence.

Aftermath

Eamon groaned as he lifted himself from the slates of the roof. His knights were scattered around him, most unconscious or moaning in pain. The girl Leliana was next to him and he checked her for a pulse. Finding one he shook her lightly and she came around, raising her head. “Eamon?” she asked, groggily. He nodded and helped her up to her feet.  
All around them was chaos. Roof slates, building stones and bodies were scattered everywhere. The dragon lay dead where it had fallen, the ground around it cleared from the explosion. Leliana stumbled and he put his arm around her to steady her and himself.   
The sounds of moaning and crying began to get louder and Eamon realized that most of the troops on the roof were alive although many just barely. The huge double doors to the rooftop were hanging from their hinges, blown nearly off from the force of the blast. He was relieved to see several soldiers along with some mages standing and beginning to help the wounded.   
Leliana gasped and broke away from him, running towards a figure lying against the wall. She knelt down calling, “Alistair! Oh Maker please help him! Alistair!”  
Eamon rushed to his nephew’s side and helped her turn him over. He pulled off his gloves and checked for a pulse, finding it weak but steady. “He’s alive!” he exclaimed joyfully. Leliana began to pray as she helped Eamon check Alistair for wounds, then wiped his face with a cloth as he began to come around. Awake, Alistair started to rise and reach for his sword. “Easy, son. It’s over.”   
“Lyn?” Alistair asked weakly. “Where’s Lyn?”  
Leliana shook her head. “We are still looking for her.”  
Alistair began to rise, “I have to find her. Lyn!” he hollered with all his might. “Rosalyn! Where are you?” Eamon helped him to his feet, calling a mage over to tend him. The mage cast a healing spell and handed him a potion to drink before heading off to the next one who needed him.  
Eamon forced Alistair to drink the potion, then gave him up to Leliana’s care. “I’ll search over there,” he said, patting Alistair on the back before leaving them.  
“I have to find her, Leliana. She was injured,” he pleaded.  
“We will. Come with me and we’ll look,” she told him, putting her arm around him as he walked.   
They searched through the wreckage of bodies and stone and Alistair reached out with his Warden sense, searching for anything that would register. “There.” He pointed at a spot at the edge of the rooftop where a pile of rubble lay. He ran to the edge and began pawing at the rubble. “Lyn!” he yelled. “Oh Maker! Help me! She’s here!” They were soon joined by several soldiers who began digging with them. “Lyn! Hang on! I’m coming love!”  
At last a large slate was removed and she was there, unconscious and barely alive. “Lyn!” Alistair cried, pulling the rest of the rubble from her. Her arm and leg were broken and she had been hit in the head but she was alive. Alistair picked her up and carried her to a mage, who began to heal her. “Her stomach too; she had been wounded before.” The mage nodded and let loose as much healing energy as he could. Slowly, Rosalyn’s color returned and she began to breathe easier. Another mage set her arm and leg bones and bandaged her head.   
Wynne was there but Alistair never knew from where she came. “Let me see you,” she ordered. Chanting softly to herself, she cast a healing spell on Alistair and soon he was feeling better, but exhausted.  
“How is she?” he asked.  
“She is badly hurt. There is internal damage that must be mended and she will need much rest. But if she can stand up to this, she has a chance.”  
Alistair smiled with relief. “Hear that love? A chance. We can live with that.” He stroked the hair back from her face and saw the smile that peaked out from her cracked and burned lips. He shouted with joy.

The Denerim Palace

Three weeks later, Rosalyn woke in the early morning hours in the room she shared with Alistair. The morning was cold as she rose, leaving her lover behind in the warm bed. She walked to the large veranda doors and quietly opened one, slipping outside into the cold open air. Below her lay the huge palace courtyard, cleared of rubble and cleaned. An honor guard stood watch over the huge pyre constructed in the middle of the courtyard. Jowan lay on the pyre, ready for his journey to the Maker or wherever he would end up.  
Rosalyn looked out over the courtyard and her friend’s pyre and into the city beyond, her birthplace and home. As she stood there, she felt the blanket as it was lowered to her shoulders and reached to draw it around her, never taking her eyes off the scene in front of her. Alistair stood next to her, a blanket wrapped around him against the early morning cold.   
“He looks so lonely down there,” she said out loud.  
“I know,” he replied. Turning to her, “What are you doing out here?”   
“Looking at my life.”  
“What about your life?” he asked.  
She pointed to a spot beyond the palace gates, “Over there is the Alienage where I was born and raised.” She pointed to another spot near the market, “And that is the Arl of Denerim’s estate, where I killed Vaughan and freed Shianni, sealing my fate.” She pointed down below her, “The Grey Warden compound, where Duncan took me for armor and weapons and gave me a new life.” Finally she gestured to Jowan’s pyre, standing below them, “And that is where I should be right now, instead of standing her with you.”  
Alistair thought about what she had told him and said, “I can see my life from here too.” He pointed over towards the Market district, “Eamon’s estate, where I stayed every winter and slept with the hounds because the Arlessa wouldn’t have me in the house.” His hand pointed to a high hill in the center of town, “The abbey where they taught me to fight and be a man.” He gestured down, “The Warden compound where Duncan gave me a purpose and showed me my destiny.” He looked down at the pyre, “And that is where I’m supposed to be right now but Jowan loved me so much that he took my place. I can’t let that sacrifice go to waste, Lyn. Not now.”  
“So what does your destiny look like, Alistair?” she asked, looking up at him.  
“It has red hair, pointed ears, and golden eyes and I will never leave her as long as I live,” he answered, pulling her into his arms and holding her.  
“I will never let you,” she answered as they stood there and watched over Jowan until it was time for him to make his journey.

Epilogue

The next few months were busy for the struggling country as it tried to rebuild itself after so much devastation. Eamon was officially crowned king a month after the Blight ended and the country found it had a reason to celebrate at last. Teagan was officially named a Prince of Ferelden and the heir designate.   
As the result of her selfish handling of the Redcliffe siege and Connor’s involvement, Isolde was not given the title of queen by her husband, instead receiving the title of Royal Consort and keeping her title of Arlessa of Redcliffe. She was not seen at court often and rumors ran rampant that she had abandoned her husband in anger over his choice not to make her his queen. Eamon refused to divorce her, despite the many suits he was offered over the years. Eventually, Isolde retired to a quiet life as a chantry sister and Eamon quietly divorced her per her wishes. He never remarried nor took a lover. Eamon reigned for many years before his death and was succeeded by his brother who immediately abdicated in favor of his eldest son.  
Prince Teagan began his search for a bride almost immediately, finding a promising candidate in the guise of the youngest Cousland daughter, who had escaped the attack on her family by Rendon Howe. After a colorful and eventful courtship and marriage, they settled down at Redcliffe Castle and raised four children, two girls and two boys. They named their eldest children, Alistair and Rosalyn.   
Soris joined the army for a time, where he met a young elven rogue from Gwaren. They eventually married and moved to White Cliffs where he took up the mantle of Bann with the help of his uncle Cyrion, becoming the first elven noble in over four hundred years. They had many children and their eldest daughter married young Prince Alistair Guerrin of Redcliffe, eventually becoming queen and forging a new era in Ferelden for elves and humans alike.  
Rosalyn’s father, Cyrion, married the cook at White Cliffs where he lived happily and prosperous for the rest of his days.  
Shianni became hahren of the Alienage after Valendrian’s death. As a tribute to her work to better the lives of elves in the cities and beyond, she was given a seat in the Landsmeet and a title. She became a strong voice in support of all the elven peoples of Ferelden including the Dalish. Eventually she married a prosperous Dalish craftsman and lived happily.  
Of the other companions on Rosalyn and Alistair’s journey, Sten returned to Seheron to report to the Arishock, presenting Wynne with a token of their time together before he left. Once he returned to his home, he was often asked about his time in Ferelden with the Wardens. He always said that they were an unusual people who fought well for what they had and kept it. For the rest of his life he spent his free time in a solitary effort to find the perfect cookie.  
Wynne remained at court as a liaison with the Circle and as court mage. Her counsel was much prized by King Eamon through the years. She continued mentoring young Connor Guerrin, who grew to be a powerful mage healer, eventually taking her place as court mage to his cousin, young King Alistair.  
Leliana returned to Haven with Brother Genetivi and the Chantry to examine the discovery of the Urn of Sacred Ashes. Although once they arrived, they found the mountaintop deserted and the Urn missing. Eventually she returned to Orlais where she joined the Order of the Seekers, serving the Chantry the rest of her days.  
Oghren joined the Ferelden Army and later became a Grey Warden. He eventually dried up and married a dwarven merchant woman from Amaranthine, living happily with her.  
Zevran remained at court for a time, working as head of King Eamon’s security, eventually ending up at Vigil’s Keep, training Grey Warden assassins. He disappeared one night and it was later said that he had returned to Antiva. Not long after, a report circulated that an unknown elven man had seized control of a single Crow cell and was systematically taking out all the other cells. The man’s identity was a closely guarded secret and remained so.  
Morrigan was never seen in Ferelden again. Some say she returned to the Wilds, while others placed her in Tevinter. Still another spoke of a mysterious dark haired mage that had somehow insinuated herself into the court of Empress Celene of Orlais, becoming a close confidant of the young empress. The truth was never discovered.  
Rosalyn and Alistair kept fighting the Darkspawn menace. Six months after Eamon’s coronation she was named the commander of the new Grey Warden garrison at Vigil’s Keep, serving with distinction and eventually earning herself the new title of Savior of Amaranthine.   
Alistair journeyed to Weisshaupt Fortress not long after Eamon’s coronation to deliver Jowan’s notes on Avernus’ research and place his friend’s ashes in his new tomb, built next to Garahel’s. He gave the First Warden a full report on the Blight and its aftermath, returning to Rosalyn’s side as soon as he was able.   
As a result of their discovery of the records in the Grey Warden vault, Rosalyn named Alistair the official scribe and historian of the Ferelden Grey Wardens. His work to unravel the truth behind King Arland’s treatment of the Grey Wardens as well as his accounting of the history of the order in Ferelden brought a new respect to the order that was long overdue. King Eamon and the First Warden delivered personal commendations to him for his work.  
As soon as he returned from Weisshaupt, Alistair made good on his promise to Rosalyn, taking her to someplace warm and somehow losing all their clothes.   
Rosalyn did finally get her tattoo. She won’t say where it is but Alistair had a fine time searching for it.   
Not long after he returned from Weisshaupt, Alistair finally talked Rosalyn into marrying him for real and the ceremony was held on the beach at White Cliffs with many family and friends in attendance. They spent their honeymoon on the beach, again losing all their clothes in the process.  
Twenty-five years after the Blight, Alistair and Rosalyn resigned their posts and disappeared. Legend has it that they retired to a quiet life at White Cliffs or Weisshaupt where they trained new Wardens. Many stories were told about them over the years but the best comes from a dwarven businessman from Kirkwall. He tells the story of how they journeyed to Orzammar where the king gave them a huge banquet in their honor. Half way through the banquet, Alistair and Rosalyn disappeared. They were last seen entering the Deep Roads together where they faced their final battle…and won.


End file.
